THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"  'Jack,'  she  said  suddenly,  'you  come  along  with  us. 


STORIES  OF  THE  SOUTH  SEAS 


BY 

LLOYD  OSBOURNE 

AUTHOR  OF  "BABY  BULLET" 


D.   APPLETON   AND    COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  ,::  MCMXXI 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  1921,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  or  AMERICA 


PREFACE 


Deep  in  every  heart  there  seems  to  be  a  longing 
for  a  more  primitive  existence ;  and  though  in  prac 
tice  it  is  often  an  illusion,  the  South  Seas  lend  them 
selves  better  to  such  dreams  than  any  other  part  of 
the  world.  There  are  fewer  races  more  attractive 
than  the  Polynesians.  Frank,  winning,  gay  and 
extraordinarily  well-mannered,  the  higher  types  are 
often  remarkably  good-looking,  and  scarcely  darker 
than  Southern  Europeans.  Some  aspects  of  their 
life  are  truly  poetic.  Half  naked,  with  flowers  in 
their  hair,  and  just  sufficient  work  to  keep  them  in 
superb  physical  condition,  they  have  an  almost  un 
limited  leisure  to  share  with  the  wayfarer  in  their 
midst.  And  dirt,  that  greatest  of  all  human  barriers, 
is  nonexistent.  No  people  are  cleaner;  none  have 
so  intense  a  personal  self-respect.  One  wonders 
sometimes  whether  it  is  not  the  white  man  who  is  the 
savage,  and  these  in  some  ways  his  superiors. 

I  went  to  the  Pacific  when  I  was  a  boy  of  twenty, 
remaining  there  till  I  was  twenty-eight.  For  two 
years  I  sailed  in  various  ships,  visiting  not  only  all 
the  principal  groups,  but  stopping  at  many  a  lost 
little  paradise  like  Manihiki,  Nieue  or  Gente  Her- 
mosa,  which  lie  so  lonely  and  apart  that  the  rare 
stranger  is  greeted  with  open  arms.  Then,  settled 


1481CS3 


PREFACE 

in  Samoa,  I  learned  the  language  as  only  the  very 
young  can  learn  it,  and  incidentally  had  a  small  part 
in  the  civil  wars  of  that  period.  I  was  brought  into 
intimate  contact  with  many  powerful  chiefs,  and 
became  so  wholly  a  Samoan  that  I  once  barely 
escaped  assassination.  I  certainly  have  some  claim 
to  know  South  Sea  life  from  the  inside — from  the 
native's  side — and  this  must  be  my  excuse  for  the 
present  volume. 

That  my  stories  should  deal  so  often  with  the 
loves  of  white  men  and  brown  women  is  inevitable. 
The  white  man  and  the  brown  girl — that  is  the  old 
est  story  in  the  South  Seas  and  the  newest.  The 
children  of  the  sun  are  very  easygoing;  their  stand 
ards  are  not  our  standards;  they  live  for  the  mo 
ment,  and  love  as  lightly.  It  is  often  the  white  man 
who  suffers,  and  not  the  maid  with  the  sparkling 
eyes  and  radiant  smile.  He  may  take  regrets  away 
with  him;  perhaps  one  of  those  inner  wounds  that 
never  heal,  while  she  marries  a  native  missionary 
and  lives  happily  ever  afterwards.  Polynesians  al 
ways  live  happily  ever  afterwards,  no  matter  what 
happens. 

Yet  do  not  think  I  am  disparaging  them.  They 
probably  have  as  much  to  teach  us  as  we  them. 
Courtesy,  kindliness,  good  humor,  a  charming  ac 
ceptance  of  life,  and  if  the  need  comes  for  it  an 
intrepid  courage,  all  these,  and  more,  are  theirs. 
As  I  see  the  faces  of  my  old  friends  through  the 
mist  I  feel  an  undying  affection  for  them.  I  shared 
their  lives,  their  secrets,  their  happy  days  and  their 
tragic  days  "in  the  diamond  morning  of  long  ago." 

vi 


PREFACE 

I  was  the  confidant  in  many  a  runaway  match ;  was 
the  writer  of  war  epistles  that  the  bearer  was  direct 
ed  to  eat  if  pursuit  grew  too  hot;  I  had  a  little 
domain  of  my  own  where  my  word  was  law — an 
"out-island"  village,  living  in  a  perpetual  feud  with 
its  neighbors.  Was  this  really  myself — this  tall 
youth  in  the  whale-tooth  necklace  and  girded  tappa 
marching  with  his  brother  chiefs  in  stately  proces 
sion  ?  Incredible — yet  it  was.  Was  it  I  whose  hand 
was  kissed  by  this  stalwart  warrior  whom  I  see  fling 
ing  himself  from  his  horse  and  running  towards  me 
with  the  sun  glinting  on  his  cartridge-belt  ?  Incredi 
ble — yet  it  was.  Was  it  really  I,  at  the  helm  of  that 
boat,  the  leader  of  twenty  young  men  who  were  to 
play  cricket  by  day  and  dance  by  night,  halfway 
round  Upolu?  Incredible — yet  it  was. 

"Ina  o  mulumuluina  o'u  vae  i  le  suasusu ;  na 
faapunaia  mai  foi  e  le  papa  tafe  suauu  mo  a'u." 

My  publishers  have  been  encouraged  to  reissue 
the  present  volume,  enlarged  by  the  addition  of  sev 
eral  new  tales.  Whatever  their  demerits  may  be, 
my  stories  are  at  least  true  to  a  picturesque  and  little 
known  life  that  is  fast  passing  away. 

LLOYD  OSBOURNE 


vil 


CONTENTS 

MM 

THE  RENEGADE      ...,.,  1 

THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS     .  55 

FORTY  YEARS  BETWEEN    .....  86 

O's  HEAD 113 

PROFESSOR  No  No  .         .        .         .         .        .  142 

CAPTAIN  ELIJAH  COB     .....  162 

MR.   BOB 192 

OLD  DIBS 216 

THE  LABOR  CAPTAIN 274 

A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 297 

CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES    .....  316 

BEN                         .                   .  339 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACIHO 
PAG* 

" '  Jack,'  she   said   suddenly,   '  you   come  along  with 

US*"  .  .  .          .  .  .  Froittispitte 

"  In  an  instant  she  was  tumbling  backward  "  52 

"Jack  leaped  to  his  feet,  white  and  speechless"         .  98 

"'This  is  a  black  business,  Silver  Tongue,'  I  said"  118 


THE    RENEGADE 


IT  was  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  from 
her  uneasy  anchorage  in  the  pass  the  German  man- 
of-war  struck  the  time,  four  bells.  Overhead  the 
sun  shone  fiercely  through  a  mist  of  fire ;  below,  the 
bay  gave  back  a  dancing  glare;  on  the  outer  reef 
the  long  breakers  foamed  and  tumbled,  white  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach.  From  his  perch  beneath 
the  bows  of  the  Northern  Light  a  sailor,  paint  brush 
in  hand,  was  slowly  wearing  out  the  day — a  brown- 
bearded,  straight-nosed,  handsome  man  of  thirty,  his 
red  shirt  open  to  the  waist,  his  bare  arms  stained 
with  the  drippings  of  his  brush.  Astride  of  his 
plank,  which  hung  suspended  in  midair  by  a  block 
and  tackle  at  either  end,  the  seaman  faced  the  task 
that  seemed  to  have  no  end.  For  a  week  he  had 
been  at  it,  patch  by  patch,  working  his  way  round 
the  bark,  while  the  bells  had  struck  on  the  man-of- 
war  and  the  sun  had  risen  and  set. 

As  he  swept  his  brush  across  the  blistered  wall 
in  front  of  him,  he  wondered  moodily  whether  fate 
had  nothing  more  in  store  for  him  than  this.  Was 
he  to  finish  as  he  had  begun,  a  common  sailor,  doing 

I 


WILD    JUSTICE 


forever  what  others  bade  him  ? — painting  other  peo 
ple's  ships,  pulling  other  people's  ropes,  clinging  at 
night  on  other  people's  yards  to  take  in  other  peo 
ple's  sails,  facing  tempests  and  squalls,  reefs,  lee 
shores,  and  all  the  vicissitudes  of  the  deep — for 
others!  He  laid  down  the  brush  beside  him,  and 
in  a  somber  reverie  looked  toward  Apia.  His  eyes 
scarcely  took  in  the  bigger  buildings  that  were  dotted 
here  and  there  round  the  circumference  of  the 
beach:  the  stone  cathedral,  the  great  yellow  ware 
houses  of  the  Firm,  the  two  hotels,  the  consulates, 
churches,  and  stores.  What  attracted  him,  what 
held  him  in  a  sort  of  spell,  were  the  lesser  roofs 
showing  through  the  green  of  trees  and  gardens, 
the  tiny  cottages  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  or 
others  still  farther  back,  scattered  and  solitary  on 
the  wooded  hills.  Was  he,  then,  never  to  possess 
a  house  of  his  own  nor  a  yard  of  earth?  Was  the 
sea,  the  accursed  sea,  to  claim  him  till  he  died? 
What  had  he  done,  he  asked  himself,  that  others 
drew  all  the  prizes  and  left  him  but  the  blanks 
— that  they  should  stay  ashore  and  prosper — that 
they  should  marry  and  have  children  round  them, 
while  he  drudged  at  sea  alone?  Those  traders, 
clerks,  saloon-keepers,  those  mechanics,  carpenters, 
shipwrights,  smiths,  and  stevedores,  how  he  en 
vied  them!  envied  their  houses,  their  wives,  their 
children,  their  gardens,  their  soft  and  comfortable 
lives,  everything  that  made  them  so  different  from 

2 


himself;  he,  the  outcast,  with  no  home  but  his 
musty  bunk;  they,  the  poorest,  kings  beside  him. 

It  was  the  sea,  he  said  to  himself — the  sea,  that 
took  all  and  gave  nothing;  the  sea,  mother  of  all 
injustice  and  misery;  the  sea,  whose  service  was 
to  tie  oneself  to  the  devil's  tail  and  whisk  forever 
about  the  world,  sweating  in  doldrums,  freezing  in 
snow  squalls,  hanging  on  to  lashing  yards,  blinded, 
soaked,  benumbed,  the  gale  above,  death  below. 
And  yet  even  here  there  were  some,  no  better  in 
deed  than  he,  who  grasped  the  meager  prizes  that 
even  the  sea  itself  could  not  withhold;  prizes  that 
he  could  never  hope  to  touch — the  command  of 
ships,  the  right  to  tread  the  quarter-deck,  the  handle 
to  one's  name.  How  did  they  do  it,  these  favored 
ones  of  fortune?  How  did  Hansen,  that  stinking 
Dutchman,  ever  rise  to  be  the  master  of  the  North 
ern  Light? — and  that  swine  Bates,  the  mate,  who 
already  had  the  promise  of  a  ship? — and  Knight, 
the  second  mate,  a  boy  but  twenty-two,  yet  whose 
foot  was  even  now  on  the  upward  ladder. 

"  Jack  Wilson,"  said  the  sailor  to  himself,  "  Jack 
Wilson,  you're  a  fool !  " 

Having  several  times  delivered  himself  of  this 
sentiment,  always  with  an  increasing  heartiness  of 
self-contempt,  he  slapped  on  some  more  paint  and 
began  to  whistle.  But  the  whistle  died  away  again, 
for  a  little  house  was  peeping  through  the  trees  at 
him,  and  he  remembered  how  he  had  seen  it  from 

3 


WILD   JUSTICE 


the  road,  embowered  in  flowers,  with  the  river  flow 
ing  at  its  foot,  a  cool,  snug,  inviting  little  house, 
with  green  blinds,  a  pigeon  cote,  and  a  flight  of 
steps  descending  to  the  bathing  pool.  How  happy, 
no  doubt,  that  fellar  that  owned  it — a  fellar  with 
a  regular  job;  a  wife,  maybe,  and  kids  to  swing  in 
that  there  contraption  under  the  mango;  a  fellar, 
as  like  as  not,  no  better  than  himself ;  and  yet ! 

"Jack,"  he  said  huskily  to  himself,  "how  the 
hell  have  you  missed  it  all  ?  " 

"  Women  and  drink,"  came  the  answer.  "  Wom 
en  and  drink,  Jack,  my  boy." 

In  the  course  of  his  long  and  wandering  life  how 
often  had  he  been  paid  off;  how  often  had  he  felt 
his  pockets  heavy  with  the  gold  so  arduously  toiled 
for;  how  often  had  he  vowed  to  himself  that  this 
time  he  would  keep  itl  And  had  he  kept  it? 
Never ! 

There  had  been  windfalls,  too;  money  that  had 
come  easily;  double  handfuls  of  money  that  he  had 
tossed  in  the  air  like  a  child,  to  see  it  glitter.  Six 
teen  hundred  dollars  from  a  lucky  whaling  cruise; 
seven  hundred  dollars,  his  share  for  salvaging  the 
derelict  steamer  Shore  Ditch',  sixty-six  pounds 
eight  and  fourpence  that  the  passengers  had  raised 
for  him  when  he  saved  the  girl  at  Durban — that, 
and  a  gold  medal,  and  a  fancy  certificate  with  the 
British  and  American  flags  intertwined.  That 
medal!  It  had  gone  for  a  round  of  drinks  and 

4 


THE   RENEGADE 


five  dollars  for  a  wench.  And  the  fancy  certificate ! 
Thunder!  he  had  left  it  on  the  Huascar  when  he 
had  taken  leg-bail  of  the  Chilanean  navy. 
"  Women  and  drink,  Jack  Wilson !  " 
That's  where  it  has  gone,  every  dollar  of  it.  To 
the  sharks  and  bloodsuckers  of  seaport  towns;  to 
the  tawdry  sisterhood  that  spun  their  nets  for  Jack 
ashore ;  to  those  women  that  wheedled  the  seaman's 
last  cent,  and  laughed  to  see  him  starving  in  the 
streets.  It  was  for  these  he  worked,  then !  It  was 
for  these  he  was  even  this  minute  painting  the 
bloody  bark;  for  rumsellers  and  harlots!  He  re 
peated  the  words  to  himself  as  he  looked  at  his 
torn  nails  and  blackened  hands.  For  these — by 
God,  for  these !  He  felt  within  himself  the  welling 
of  a  great  resolution,  of  a  great  revolt.  He  would 
reform.  He  would  save  his  money.  He  would 
live  straight.  When  they  were  paid  off  at  Portland 
there  should  be  two  hundred  dollars  coming  to  him 
— two  hundred  dollars,  more  or  less.  He  would 
put  it  in  the  bank,  and  get  a  shakedown  in  one  of 
them  model  lodging  houses.  He  would  turn  in  at 
night  with  "  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul "  in  worsted 
work  above  his  blessed  head,  and  in  the  morning 
he  would  plank  down  his  fifteen  cents  and  begin 
the  day  with  gospel  tea.  He  would  be  a  man !  Yes, 
sirree,  a  man !  Not  a  hog ! 

Then  in  his  mind's  eye  he  saw  himself  rolling 
down  the  street,  a  girl  on  either  arm,  the  gaslights 

5. 


WILD   JUSTICE 


dancing  in  his  tipsy  head.  He  would  meet  a  ship 
mate  and  drop  in  somewhere  for  a  drink;  another 
shipmate  and  another  drink;  and  then,  the  party 
growing  as  it  went,  a  general  adjournment  to  one 
of  them  hurdy-gurdies.  Here  they  would  dance 
and  drink  and  sing  and  whoop  it  up  like  hell,  till — 
till —  Yes,  that's  what  would  happen.  That's 
what  always  happened.  Them  good  resolutions 
always  ended  that  way — in  smoke.  He  had  made 
them,  man  and  boy,  these  fourteen  years.  He 
would  make  them,  he  supposed,  until  the  day  he 
died.  And  keep  them?  No;  he  was  a  hog;  he 
would  go  on  like  a  hog;  he  would  die  a  hog — a 
durned,  low,  dirty,  contemptible  hog! 

He  spat  in  the  water  to  emphasize  his  self-dis 
gust,  cursed  the  infernal  sun,  and  then,  dipping 
into  the  pot  again,  continued  his  job. 

Turning  round  to  rest  his  arms,  he  perceived, 
beneath  the  deep  shade  of  the  Matautu  shore,  the 
first  sign  of  animation  in  that  sleepy  settlement. 
A  crowd  of  natives  were  straggling  out  to  a  whale- 
boat  that  was  apparently  being  made  ready  for  sea. 
Men  and  girls  were  wading  to  it,  with  baskets  of 
food,  kegs  of  beef,  a  tin  of  biscuit,  and  a  capacious 
chest.  A  couple  of  children  bailed  frantically  in 
the  stern  sheets,  while  a  shrill  old  woman  slid  over 
the  gunwale  with  a  live  pig  in  her  arms.  Strange 
packages  of  tapa  cloth  were  carried  out;  bundles 
of  mats,  paddles,  guns,  a  tin  of  kerosene,  a  huge 

6 


THE  RENEGADE 


stone  for  an  anchor,  a  water  demijohn,  more  pigs, 
a  baby,  and  a  parrakeet  in  a  bamboo  cage.  These 
were  all  thrown  in,  and  stored  with  noisy  good- 
humor  and  a  dozen  different  readjustments.  The 
baby,  in  turn,  was  given  the  bow,  the  stern,  the 
center,  as  though  nothing  would  satisfy  it.  A  pig 
broke  loose  and  was  hilariously  recaptured.  A  de 
jected,  thin  person,  somewhat  past  middle  years, 
in  what  seemed  no  costume  but  his  native  skin,  re 
tired  shoreward  with  the  parrakeet.  An  old  chief, 
his  head  white  with  lime,  after  a  prolonged  nose- 
rubbing  with  those  on  shore,  marched  out  to  the 
boat,  carrying  an  umbrella  above  his  stately  head. 
There  were  more  farewells  in  shallow  water,  more 
running  to  and  fro;  a  brief  reappearance  of  the 
undecided  parrakeet.  The  young  men  took  their 
places  at  the  thwarts,  the  old  chief  settled  the  tiller 
on  the  rudder  head,  the  women,  girls,  and  children 
crowded  in  wherever  they  could,  and  then,  amid 
shouts  and  cheers,  the  paddles  dipped  and  the  boat 
moved  slowly  seaward. 

Wilson  watched  it  all  with  sullen  envy.  How 
was  it  that  these  brown  savages  were  free,  and  he 
barnacled  to  a  slab-sided  bark  ?  Was  he  not  a  white 
man,  and  their  superior?  Did  he  not  look  down  at 
them  from  the  heights  of  the  world's  ruling  race, 
kindly,  tolerantly,  contemptuously,  as  one  does  on 
children?  And  yet  who  had  the  best  of  it,  by 
God?  Listen  to  the  dip  of  the  paddles;  hear  the 

7 


WILD   JUSTICE 


mellow  chorus  that  times  the  rowers'  strokes;  not 
a  care  on  board,  not  a  face  that  was  not  smiling! 
His  white  superiority!  They  might  have  it!  His 
lonely  and  toiling  life!  What  fool  among  them 
would  exchange  with  him?  His  wages?  Look  at 
them!  They  had  none  and  wanted  none;  and  as 
like  as  not  they  were  putting  to  sea  without  a  dollar 
among  the  crowd.  Civilization — hell!  He  would 
give  all  his  share  of  it  for  a  place  in  that  there 
boat,  to  drive  a  paddle  with  the  rest  of  them;  to 
be,  what  he  wished  to  God  he  had  been  born,  a 
durned  Kanaka! 

The  whaleboat  drew  swiftly  toward  him  as 
though  to  go  beneath  the  bark  on  her  way  to  the 
pass.  The  paddles  leaped^ to  a  rousing  song  and 
crashed  in  unison  on  the  slopping  gunwales.  Dip, 
swish,  bang!  and  then  the  accentuated  thunder  of 
forty  voices,  the  men's  hoarse  and  straining,  the 
women's  rich,  falsetto,  and  musical.  In  the  stern 
the  old  chief  swayed  with  every  rush  of  the  boat, 
one  sinewy  hand  clinched  on  the  tiller,  the  other 
enfolding  a  little  child.  In  the  bow  a  handsome 
boy  stood  erect  and  graceful,  throwing  a  rifle  in 
the  air  and  dancing  to  the  song  of  his  comrades. 
Dip,  swish,  bang!  On  they  came  with  an  increas 
ing  roar,  the  white  water  splashing  under  their 
bow. 

Wilson  dropped  his  brush  and  looked  on  with 
open  mouth.  Great  Caesar!  he  knew  that  old  fel- 

8 


THE   RENEGADE 


lar  in  the  stern.  He  had  smoked  pipes  with  him 
in  the  Samoa  house  by  the  bridge.  And  that  girl 
there,  who  was  waving  and  shaking  her  hand  to 
him,  that  was  little  Fetuao,  the  daughter,  who  used 
to  look  at  him  so  shyly  and  laugh  when  she  met 
his  eyes ;  little  Fetuao,  that  he  had  given  the  dom 
inoes  to,  and  that  dress  from  the  Dutch  firm,  and 
them  beads!  Fetuao!  Wasn't  she  pretty  as  she 
stood  there  in  the  boat  calling  to  him ;  so  slim  and 
straight,  with  her  splendid  hair  flying  in  the  wind, 
and  her  brown  bosom  open  to  the  sun!  Pretty! 
My  God,  she  was  a  spanking  beauty,  that  girl! 

The  boat  came  to  a  stop  beneath  him;  the  pad 
dles  backed,  and  Wilson,  with  some  embarrass 
ment,  received  the  stare  of  the  whole  party  below. 

"  Poor  white  mans  work  all  time ! "  exclaimed 
Fetuao,  standing  on  a  thwart  to  raise  her  head  to 
the  level  of  his  foot. 

"Like  hell!"  said  Jack. 

"  Kanaka  more  better,"  said  the  girl. 

"  A  damn  sight !  "  agreed  Jack. 

"  Jack,"  said  Fetuao,  "  I  go  home  now,  and 
never  see  you  no  more.  Good-by,  Jack!" 

She  raised  her  little  hand,  which  the  sailor 
clasped  in  his  big  one.  Her  tender,  troubled  eyes 
met  his  own;  her  mouth  quivered;  her  fingers 
tightened  on  his  palm. 

"Jack,"  she  said  suddenly,  "you  come  along 
us,  Jack." 

9 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"  Do  you  mean  it,  puss  ?  "  he  said  eagerly.  "  Do 
you  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Jack,  you  come,  too,"  she  pleaded. 

"  You  come — that's  good !  "  cried  the  old  chief. 

Jack,  in  a  dream,  looked  above  him  and  met 
the  sour  glances  of  Hansen  and  Bates,  whom  the 
noise  had  brought  to  the  ship's  rail ;  then  he  looked 
below  into  the  girlish  face  upraised  to  his.  For 
better  or  worse,  his  resolution  was  taken.  They 
might  keep  his  chest;  they  might  keep  his  wages; 
their  stinking  ship  might  sink  or  swim  for  all  he 
cared.  They  were  welcome  to  what  Jack  Wilson 
left  behind  him,  for  Jack  Wilson  at  last  was 
FREE!  He  dropped  lightly  into  the  boat  beside 
Fetuao,  and  with  one  arm  around  her  naked  waist 
he  shouted  to  the  natives  to  shove  off. 

" Fo'el"  cried  the  chief,  and  the  paddles  moved 
again. 

Above  their  heads  the  astounded  captain 
clutched  the  arm  of  the  astounded  mate,  and 
pointed  wildly  after  the  deserter. 

" !  "  exclaimed  Hansen. 

"The !  "  roared  Bates. 


II 


Jack  landed  in  Oa  Bay,  the  possessor,  except 
lor  the  clothes  upon  his  back,  of  nothing  but  his 

10 


THE  RENEGADE 


rugged  health,  his  stout  heart,  and  a  determination 
to  make  good  his  footing  with  his  new  friends. 
He  remembered  drawing  apart  from  the  others, 
as  the  welcoming  throng  came  down  to  greet  them 
in  the  dusk,  forlornly  struggling  with  his  embar 
rassment  and  the  penetrating  sense  of  his  own 
helplessness  and  isolation.  Would  he  ever  forget, 
standing  there  as  he  did,  unremarked,  solitary, 
shivering  in  his  rags,  the  soft  hand  that  felt 
through  the  darkness  for  his  own,  the  voice  so 
gentle,  low,  and  sweet  that  whispered  to  him, 
"  Come,  Jack,  you  my  white  mans  now ! " 

This  was  the  beginning  of  Jack's  new  life.  He 
became  a  member  of  the  chief's  family,  sleeping 
with  the  others  at  night  on  the  outspread  mats,  and 
taking  his  share,  by  day,  of  all  the  work  and  play 
of  the  little  Samoan  village.  He  weeded  taro,  he 
carried  stones  for  the  building  of  the  new  church, 
he  helped  to  lay  out  nets,  he  speared  fish,  he  played 
cricket  and  to,  ti'a.  By  nature  neither  an  idler 
nor  a  shirk,  he  was  consumed,  besides,  with  a  de 
sire  to  repay  the  kindness  and  hospitality  of  his 
hosts;  and  the  old  chief,  his  friend  from  the  start, 
now  became  his  captain,  to  whom  he  rendered  the 
unquestioning  obedience  of  a  seaman.  And  old 
Faalelei,  whose  loose  authority  was  often  disre 
garded  by  his  own  subjects,  delighted  in  the  pos 
session  of  this  stalwart  white,  so  willing,  so  eager, 
so  ingenious  in  the  mending  of  boats  and  nets — 

II 


WILD    JUSTICE 


a  man  to  whom  the  mechanism  of  a  gun  had  no 
secrets,  and  in  whose  hands  a  single  hatchet  be 
came  a  tool  chest. 

Living  thus  among  the  only  mild,  courteous,  and 
refined  people  he  had  ever  known,  Jack  insensibly 
altered  and  improved.  His  loud  voice  grew  softer, 
his  boisterous  laugh  less  explosive,  and  his  rough 
ways  gave  place  to  a  clumsy  imitation  of  Samoan 
good  manners.  Little  by  little  the  uncouth  sailor 
patterned  himself  on  the  model  of  his  new  friends, 
and  he,  whose  every  second  word  had  been  an 
oath,  whose  only  repartee  a  blow,  now  set  himself 
to  learn  the  most  ceremonious  language  in  the 
world,  and  the  only  one,  perhaps,  in  which  one 
cannot  swear! 

And  Fetuao?  When  he  had  first  taken  up  his 
abode  in  Faalelei's  house  he  had  never  doubted, 
seeing  the  girl's  extravagant  affection  for  him, 
and  knowing  the  laxity  of  the  native  people,  that 
it  would  not  be  long  before  he  might  form  with 
her  one  of  those  irregular  connections  so  common 
in  the  islands;  and,  indeed,  it  grew  daily  more 
plain  to  him  that  he  had  but  to  ask  to  have.  But 
Jack,  not  a  little  to  his  own  astonishment,  and 
stirred  by  undreamed-of  instincts  and  undreamed-of 
scruples,  put  the  idea  from  him  with  a  hesitation 
he  could  hardly  explain  to  himself.  In  his  wicked 
and  lawless  past  he  had  known  every  kind  of 
woman  but  a  good  woman;  he  had  seen,  in  a 

13 


THE   RENEGADE 


thousand  water-side  dives,  every  variety  of  fem 
inine  degradation  and  feminine  shame,  and  had 
sounded  in  his  time  all  the  squalid  depths  of  sailor 
vice.  With  the  memory  of  these  unspeakable  con 
trasts,  Fetuao's  freshness,  purity,  and  beauty  shone 
with  a  sort  of  angelic  brightness.  No,  by  God, 
she  should  never  come  to  harm  through  him;  and, 
clenching  his  huge  hands  together,  he  would  re 
peat  these  words  to  himself  when  he  sometimes 
felt  his  resolution  falter.  For  the  sailor,  who 
never  until  then  had  known  a  modest  woman, 
who  had  starved  his  whole  life  long  for  what  his 
money  could  never  buy,  whose  heart  at  thirty  was 
as  virgin  as  a  boy's,  now  found  himself  moved 
by  a  sublime  passion  for  the  only  creature  that 
had  ever  loved  him. 

For  she  did  love  him;  of  that,  indeed,  he  had 
never  the  need  to  reassure  himself;  and  in  the 
knowledge  of  her  love  he  became,  almost  in  spite 
of  himself,  a  better  man.  In  her  girlish  self- 
abandonment  Fetuao  lacked  the  artifices  which 
older  women  would  have  used;  she  never  thought 
to  guard  herself,  or  to  coquette  with  him.  At 
night,  as  they  walked  hand  in  hand  about  the  vil 
lage,  or  sat  close  together  on  some  log  or  boat, 
she  would  take  his  arm  and  draw  it  around  her; 
she  would  lay  her  head  against  his  breast;  she 
would  press  herself  so  close  to  him  that  he  could 
hear  her  beating  heart.  There  was  much  of  the 


WILD   JUSTICE 


mother  in  her  love  for  him.  He  was  her  great 
baby,  to  be  caressed,  kissed,  crooned  over,  to  be 
petted  and  encouraged.  Her  tender  laughter  was 
always  in  his  ears ;  she  corrected  him  as  she  might 
a  child,  with  a  sweet  seriousness,  and  an  implica 
tion  that  his  shame  was  hers  whenever  he  blun 
dered  in  Samoan  etiquette;  she  prompted  him  and 
pushed  him  through  scenes  of  trying  formality, 
and  drilled  him  assiduously  in  politeness. 

In  the  moonlight,  when  they  were  alone  to 
gether,  she  taught  him  how  to  receive  the  'ava 
cup;  how  to  spill  the  libation  to  the  gods;  how 
to  invoke  a  proper  blessing  on  the  company.  She 
taught  him  how  to  say  "  O  susunga,  lau  susunga 
fo'i,"  on  entering  a  strange  house ;  how  to  pull  the 
mat  over  his  knee  to  express  his  fictitious  depend 
ence;  how  to  join  in  the  chorus  of  "Maliu  mai, 
susu  mai"  when  others  entered  after  him;  how, 
indeed,  to  comport  himself  everywhere  with  the 
finished  courtesy  of  a  Samoan  chief. 

Thus  the  bright  days  passed,  and  months  melted 
into  months,  and  still  Jack  remained  an  inmate 
of  Faalelei's  household.  At  first  he  had  accepted 
this  strange  life  as  a  sort  of  holiday,  never  doubt 
ing  but  that,  in  the  end,  he  must  turn  his  back 
on  these  pleasant  people,  and  see,  from  a  dizzy 
yard-arm,  their  exquisite  island  sink  forever  behind 
him.  The  place  thus  possessed  for  him  the  charm 
of  something  he  was  destined  soon  to  lose,  and  he 


THE   RENEGADE 


clung  to  it  as  a  man  clings  to  his  fading  youth, 
with  a  sense  that  it  is  slipping  from  him.  He 
sighed  as  he  thought  of  the  forecastle  that  he  knew 
somewhere  awaited  him ;  how  he  would  recall  those 
still  nights  in  Oa  when  he  would  be  roused  by  the 
boatswain's  handspike  on  the  hatch,  and  the  hoarse 
cry  of  "All  hands  on  deck!" 

One  day,  when  he  was  out  in  Faalelei's  boat, 
an  accident  occurred  that  came  very  near  to  being 
the  end  of  Jack.  They  were  pursuing  a  school  of 
bonito,  and  Pulu,  the  chief's  brother,  was  standing 
in  the  bow  with  a  stick  of  dynamite  and  was  in  the 
nick  of  letting  it  fly  when  it  exploded  prematurely 
in  his  hand.  Pulu  was  killed,  the  rickety  old  boat 
parted  and  sank,  and  Jack,  with  his  shoulder  laid 
open  to  the  bone,  was  towed  in  by  a  neighboring 
canoe,  and  carried  up  to  the  house.  They  laid 
him  on  the  floor,  pale  and  groaning,  while  the 
children  ran  out  screaming  for  Fetuao.  She  came 
in  like  a  whirlwind,  still  wet  from  the  river,  and 
threw  herself  on  her  knees  beside  him.  With 
passionate  imperiousness  she  made  the  rest  of  the 
household  wait  upon  her  bidding  as  she  busied 
herself  in  stanching  the  flow  of  blood  and  in  pick 
ing  the  splinters  from  the  wound.  Jack  knew 
how  wont  she  was,  in  common  with  all  Samoans, 
to  shrink  from  disagreeable  sights.  It  touched 
him  to  see  how  love  had  conquered  her  repug 
nance  ;  nor  could  he  resist  a  smile  when  she  began 

15 


WILD   JUSTICE 


to  tear  her  little  wardrobe  into  bandages,  those 
chemises  and  lavdavas  that  she  used  to  iron  under 
the  trees,  and  put  away  with  such  care  into  the 
camphor-wood  chest  with  the  bell  lock. 

For  the  better  part  of  a  fortnight  Jack  lay  where 
they  had  placed  him  on  the  mats,  undergoing,  with 
intermissions  of  fever  and  delirium,  the  tedious 
stages  of  convalescence.  Fetuao  seemed  never  to 
leave  him,  attending  to  his  wants,  brushing  away 
the  flies,  feeding  and  washing  him  with  an  anxious 
solemnity  that  at  times  almost  awed  the  sailor. 
Her  brilliant  eyes,  as  black  and  limpid  as  some 
wild  animal's,  watched  him  with  an  unceasing 
stare.  He  often  wondered  what  was  passing  in 
her  graceful  head  as  he  lay  looking  up  at  her,  too 
weak  to  speak,  the  drowsy  hours  succeeding  one 
another  in  an  unbroken  silence.  Once,  when  he 
ran  his  hand  over  his  face  and  recollected  with 
a  pang  how  old  and  ugly  he  must  seem  to  her, 
she  had  understood  the  sigh  that  expressed  his 
own  self-disgust,  and  had  bent  over  and  kissed 
him  on  the  lips.  From  that  moment  his  love  for 
her  deepened  into  an  emotion  transcending  any 
thing  he  had  ever  felt  before.  He  saw  now  that 
to  separate  himself  from  her  would  be  to  break 
both  their  hearts;  that,  for  good  or  evil,  he  was 
hers  and  she  his ;  that  fate  had  indeed  joined  them 
forever. 

When  at  last  he  grew  strong  enough  to  walk, 
16 


THE   RENEGADE 


he  went  with  her  across  to  the  native  pastor's 
house,  where  together  they  stood  up  before  the 
Rev.  Tavita  Singua  and  were  married.  This  was 
the  prelude  to  another  and  more  binding  ceremony 
before  the  American  Consul  in  Apia,  whither  they 
both  went  in  a  canoe  borrowed  from  Faalelei.  The 
official  books  were  withdrawn  from  the  safe  and 
the  thirty-six  Americans  in  Samoa  were  increased 
by  two  new  names :  "  Jack  Wilson,  aged  thirty- 
one,  birthplace  Bath,  Me.,  occupation  seaman,  pres 
ent  residence  Oa  Bay;  and  Fetuao  Wilson,  sup 
posed  to  be  seventeen,  daughter  of  Faalelei,  chief 
of  Oa  Bay,  his  lawful  wife."  (See  Consular  Mar 
riage  Record,  p.  18.) 

As  he  stood  there  before  the  consul,  painfully 
conscious  of  his  bare  feet,  of  his  unkempt  and 
ragged  appearance,  of  the  contrast  between  himself 
and  that  benignant  official,  he  timidly  brought  up 
the  subject  of  the  fee.  No  doubt  there  is  some 
kind  of  damage,  he  said,  and  might  he  leave  this 
ring — his  mother's  wedding  ring — in  pawn  until 
he  might  earn  a  little  money  and  square  the  mat 
ter?  The  consul  took  the  ring,  looked  at  it  a 
moment  without  a  word,  and  then  in  a  rough, 
friendly  way  seized  Fetuao's  hand  and  slipped  it 
on  her  finger. 

"  I  think  it  belongs  here,"  he  said. 

"  But  the  fee,"  said  Jack. 

"  Oh,  damn  the  fee !  "  said  the  consul. 

17 


WILD   JUSTICE 


With  that  he  went  into  an  inner  office  and  re 
turned  with  a  sheepish  air,  as  of  a  man  about  to 
do  something  he  was  ashamed  of. 

"  Here's  ten  dollars,"  he  said.  "  Take  it ;  it's  a 
wedding  present,  you  know.  I  never  married  any 
body  before." 

Jack  refused  the  gift  a  little  ungraciously, 
though  his  voice  trembled  in  doing  so. 

"  Have  a  drink,  then  ?  "  said  the  consul. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  Jack  blurted  out. 

Embarrassment  in  a  cloud  descended  on  all 
three.  The  consul,  like  the  worthy  fellow  he  was, 
wished  to  do  something  for  these  waifs,  and  his 
eyes  roved  about  the  big,  hot  room  in  search  of 
he  knew  not  what.  Jack  and  Fetuao,  no  less  ill 
at  ease,  stood  close  together  and  waited  submis 
sively.  Finally,  noticing  the  new  boat  flag  lying 
on  his  desk,  the  consul  took  it  up  in  both  his  hands. 
"  Wilson,"  he  said  oratorically,  "  this  is  my  flag, 
and  your  flag,  and  it-  is  now  Mrs.  Wilson's  flag, 
for  I've  made  her  as  good  an  American  as  the  pair 
of  us.  Take  it  along  with  you,  and  if  you  have 
children,  bring  them  up  to  love  and  honor  Old 
Glory  as  we  do,  and  teach  them  at  your  knee  what 
it  stands  for — freedom,  justice;  and  equal  rights 
for  every  man  born  under  it.  And  if  there  should 
ever  be  any  trouble  here — war,  riot,  or  any  little 
unpleasantness — just  hoist  it  above  your  house,  and 
its  bright  folds  will  protect  you  as  though  the 

18 


THE   RENEGADE 


whole  U-nited  States  army  lay  in  a  mighty  camp 
around  you ! " 

Jack  took  the  flag  respectfully,  much  impressed 
by  the  consul's  speech,  and  tremendously  pleased, 
besides,  that  Fetuao  should  see  that  an  American, 
even  a  common,  low-down  American  seaman  like 
himself,  counted  for  something  in  the  official 
world.  Would  a  Britisher,  or  one  of  those  stink 
ing  Dutchmen,  have  acted  like  this  counsul  did? 
His  counsul,  by  God ! — and  his  breast  heaved  with 
gratitude  and  patriotic  fervor.  Afterwards,  when 
Fetuao  and  he  ate  their  lunch  under  a  tree,  he 
spread  out  the  consul's  gift  on  the  ground  beside 
him,  and  the  words  freedom,  justice,  and  equal 
rights  boomed  sonorously  in  his  ears.  To  Fetuao, 
in  her  simplicity,  the  bunting  appeared  a  sort  of 
sanction  or  certificate  of  their  civil  marriage;  and 
when  she  returned  home  she  explained  that  it  was 
all  settled,  the  faamasino  having  written  their 
names  in  the  book  and  given  them  the  fua  Ame- 
leke! 


Ill 


Three  years  passed.  Jack  rubbed  his  eyes  and 
wondered  what  had  become  of  them;  and  he  read 
the  answer  to  his  question  in  his  coffee  bushes, 
now  breast  high  and  crimson  with  fruit,  in  his  trel- 

19 


WILD   JUSTICE 


Used  vanilla  already  so  exacting  and  so  profitable, 
in  his  sturdy  breadfruit  trees  thickening  with 
every  rain,  in  the  patches  of  bananas,  taro,  yams, 
'ava,  egg-plant,  sweet  potatoes,  pineapples,  and 
sour-sops  that  were  set  out  so  trimly  in  the  planta 
tion  his  ax  had  won  from  the  primeval  forest. 
His  house,  too,  had  drawn  not  a  little  on  his  capi 
tal — his  capital  of  strength,  skill,  and  perseverance 
— but  he  grudged  neither  time  nor  labor  in  making 
it  the  best  in  Oa.  For  a  house  is  an  important 
matter  to  a  family  man,  even  if  it  weren't  a  paying 
thing  like  vanillar,  nor  capable  of  helping  a  fellar 
along  like  a  cow  or  a  boat.  It  paid  you  back 
in  its  own  way — a  mighty  good  way,  too — and 
it  grew  to  be  a  part  of  you,  like  your  wife,  if 
you  weren't  a  poor,  lone,  seafaring  slob  without 
one. 

Of  course,  it  wasn't  much  of  a  house,  being  a 
sort  of  beehive-shaped  concern  with  a  thatched 
roof  a  foot  thick  and  open  all  round  the  sides 
when  the  cocoanut  curtains  was  hysted.  But  when 
these  were  pulled  down  at  night,  and  you  were 
a-setting  in  one  of  your  own  home-made  chairs  with 
your  wife  on  your  knee,  the  night  breeze  rustling 
overhead  and  the  breakers  moaning  a  mile  away 
on  the  outer  reef,  it  made  you  sort  of  feel  like 
things  had  come  right  at  last,  and  that  for  two 
cents  you'd  plank  right  down  on  your  knees,  then 
and  there,  and  thank  God,  by  God ! 
2O 


THE   RENEGADE 


All  this  had  not  been  accomplished  without  work, 
but  then  it  was  work  for  himself,  and  not  for 
others.  Jack  had  never  known  before  what  it  was 
to  enjoy  the  fruit  of  his  own  labor ;  he  had  always 
been  a  cog  in  the  blind  machinery  of  other  people, 
exchanging  so  much  toil  for  so  much  money.  Now 
that  he  could  see  his  little  plantation  grow  and 
prosper  beneath  his  hands,  every  hour  repaid  with 
nature's  usury,  he  began  to  feel  the  elation  that 
a  man  finds  in  independence.  At  first  Fetuao  had 
entered  but  half-heartedly  into  his  plans ;  she  would 
sit  on  a  log  and  watch  him  with  mirthful  wonder 
as  he  swung  his  ax  on  the  land  Faalelei  had  given 
them ;  and  when,  for  a  spell,  he  took  a  place  beside 
her  she  would  tenderly  wipe  the  sweat  from  his 
forehead  and  look  at  him  with  perplexity.  Work, 
yes,  that,  as  the  preacher  said,  was  the  curse  of 
Adam;  but  this  daily  persistency  was  not  under 
standable.  Had  not  Faalelei  plenty  for  them  both? 
And  if  one  taro  sufficed,  why  be  at  the  pains  to 
plant  two? 

But  little  by  little  it  began  to  dawn  on  her  that 
there  was  another  side  to  this  feverish  devotion  to 
work.  Jack  took  a  load  of  yams  to  Apia,  and 
came  back  with  fifteen  silver  dollars  and  a  bolt 
of  print  for  a  dress.  He  went  again,  and  returned 
with  a  sewing  machine,  a  pack  of  cards,  and  a 
bottle  of  trade  scent;  still  another  trip,  and  lo! 
he  towed  behind  him  a  fine  new  boat  with  Fetuao 
21 


WILD   JUSTICE 


painted  on  the  stern.  Then  she  at  last  succumbed 
to  the  fascination  of  the  white  way.  Paga!  There 
were  dollars  in  the  ground,  and  for  the  asking 
they  could  be  made  to  grow.  This  lesson  learned, 
Fetuao  threw  off  her  indifference  and  became  as 
ardent  a  planter  as  her  unwearied  husband.  Lying 
in  his  arms  at  night,  her  talk  ran  continually  on 
the  theme  of  which  neither  ever  tired.  Not  a 
dollar  was  earned  but  was  thus  laid  out  in  advance, 
with  eager  questioning  and  debate.  The  cow  was 
bought,  the  horse,  the  chickens,  the  wire  for  fen 
cing.  It  was  a  game  in  which  each  played  a  part 
with  enduring  zest;  a  game  with  a  constant  round 
of  prizes  and  enjoyment;  a  game  in  which  green 
nature  was  the  board  and  every  plant  and  tree  a 
piece.  At  sundown  they  knew  no  pleasure  like 
that  of  wandering  hand  in  hand  through  the 
paths  of  their  little  estate,  two  poetic  peasants, 
filled  with  love  for  each  other  and  immeasurably 
content. 

Thus  the  days  passed  in  increasing  satisfaction 
and  prosperity,  days  so  rare  in  the  life  of  any 
man  when  he  says  to  himself,  "  I  am  happy."  To 
Jack,  these  three  words,  never  spoken,  but  some 
where  within  him  articulate  and  peremptory,  these 
three  words  almost  overwhelmed  him  with  their 
significance.  He  trembled  for  this  treasure,  so 
elusive,  so  transitory,  perhaps,  so  surely  ill  de 
served;  he  grew  humble  with  the  thought  of  his 
22 


THE   RENEGADE 


own  unworthiness,  and,  though  no  believer  in  the 
ordinary  sense,  he  began  to  feel  the  first  stirring 
of  religion.  When  Fetuao,  with  sweet  shame,  laid 
her  head  against  his  shoulder  and  told  him  of  her 
impending  motherhood,  he  kissed  her,  comforted 
her,  and  then,  rising  to  his  feet,  he  sought  the 
solitude  that  at  such  a  moment  he  felt  he  could 
not  share  even  with  her.  In  one  of  the  unfre 
quented  corners  of  the  bay,  a  narrow  beach  shad 
owed  by  the  forest  and  faced  by  the  open  sea,  he 
threw  himself  upon  his  knees  with  a  passionate 
thankfulness  that  seemed  to  find  its  expression  in 
this  act.  Knowing  no  prayer,  addressing  no  God, 
he  simply  gazed  above  him  in  the  sky,  in  a  rapt, 
dumb  gratitude. 

As  he  walked  home  he  thought  of  his  own  par 
ents,  long  since  dead;  of  their  hopes,  their  cares, 
their  humble  unfulfilled  ambitions,  now  dead  with 
them.  He  perceived  himself,  now  for  the  first 
time,  a  link  between  the  past  and  the  future,  the 
heir  of  bygone  generations,  generations  that  had 
loved,  and  suffered,  and  struggled,  to  no  other  end 
than  that  he  might  live — he,  and  the  sister  he  had 
neither  seen  nor  heard  from  in  fourteen  years. 
Hell !  he  ought  to  write  to  Amandar.  Families 
oughtn't  to  drift  apart  like  that.  It  was  a  shame, 
a  durned  shame,  and  it  came  over  him  with  a 
shock  that  she,  too,  might  be  dead.  He  took  a 
sheet  of  paper  and  a  pencil,  and  with  heaving 

23 


WILD   JUSTICE 


breast  and  overflowing  heart  thus  broke  the  silence 
of  those  long  years: 

OA  BAY,  SAMOA,  May  14,  1899. 

DEAR  Sis,  You  will  be  surprised  to  get  a  letter 
from  me  after  all  this  time.  I  am  well  and  hope 
you  are  enjoying  a  simillar  blessing.  I  am  married 
now  and  left  the  sea.  I  suppose  Joe  is  a  man  along 
in  middle  life  now  and  you  a  handsome  mattron 
with  a  family.  This  is  a  good  country  but  hot. 
Ever  your  affectionate  brother 

JACK  WILSON. 

P.  S. — I  often  think  of  Pa  and  Ma  and  the  old 
days. 

Not  long  after,  Jack  sailed  into  Apia  with  a  load 
of  copra  and  his  letter  for  the  outgoing  mail.  The 
town  was  in  an  uproar,  and  cracking  like  the 
Fourth  of  July.  Jack  wondered  what  in  thunder 
it  was  about,  as  he  landed  at  Leicester's  wharf 
and  discovered  the  postmaster  lying  underneath 
the  post  office  in  a  nest  of  sand  bags.  Crawling 
in  after  the  functionary,  Jack  handed  him  the 
letter. 

"That's  for  America,"  said  Jack. 

"  Five  cents/'  said  Leicester. 

"What's  all  this  corrobborree  ?  "  asked  Jack. 

"  It's  war,  that's  what  it  is,"  said  Leicester, 
weighing  the  letter  in  a  tin  scale. 

24 


THE   RENEGADE 


Jack's  jaw  fell.  For  a  month  past  he  had  heard 
rumors  of  a  native  war,  but  he  had  resolutely 
closed  his  ears  to  all  that  Fetuao  was  so  insistent 
to  tell  him.  It  was  none  of  his  business,  he  had 
said  to  her  uneasily.  He  wasn't  no  politician,  and 
all  he  asked  of  anybody  was  to  be  let  alone;  and 
with  that  he  had  tried  to  put  the  matter  by  as  some 
thing  imaginary  and  disquieting,  which,  if  boldly 
ignored,  would  disappear  of  itself. 

"Say,  Mr.  Leicester,  what  in  hell  is  it  about?" 
he  inquired. 

"  If  you  went  to  the  bottom  of  it  you  would 
find  Dutchmen,"  said  Leicester  grimly. 

Jack  cursed  the  meddling  scoundrels. 

"  They  want  Mataafa  for  king,  just  because  he 
has  a  majority  of  two  thousand  votes,"  said  Leices 
ter. 

"  There  sounds  to  be  something  in  that,"  said 
Jack  faintly. 

"  Nothing  at  all !  "  exclaimed  Leicester.  "  Just 
speciousness,  that's  what  I  call  it.  The  other  fel 
low,  Tanumafili,  is  a  nice-appearing  boy  from  the 
missionary  college,  and  being  above  wire-pulling 
and  promising  everything  to  everybody,  he  hasn't 
any  following  to  speak  of.  But  he's  a  good,  decent 
Protestant  boy,  and  will  make  a  fine  king." 

"  Oh,  ho !  "  said  Jack,  beginning  to  see  how  the 
wind  lay,  "  and  so  the  other  dodger's  a  Catholic  ?  " 

"A  rank,  bigoted  Catholic,"  said  Leicester  hot- 


WILD   JUSTICE 


ly.  "  That's  what  makes  the  missionaries  so  wild 
against  him,  and  likewise  the  British  and  American 
officials." 

"  They  won't  let  him  be  king,  then  ? "  asked 
Jack. 

"  He's  a  rebel,"  said  Leicester,  "  and  they've 
posted  proclamations  against  him  on  every  cocoa- 
nut  tree  around  the  beach." 

"  And  the  natives,  they  won't  let  Tanumafili  be 
king  neither  ?  "  said  Jack. 

"  That's  him  they're  chasing  into  the  sea  this 
minute,"  explained  Leicester. 

Jack  looked  perplexed.  "  I  don't  see  why  the 
Kanakas  shouldn't  have  the  king  they  fancy,"  he 
remarked. 

"To  hear  you  talk,  one  would  think  you  was  a 
bloody  Dutchman  yourself,"  said  Leicester. 

"  But  the  majority — "  said  Jack,  "  them  two  thou 
sand " 

"The  Chief  Justice  ruled  them  out  on  a  tech 
nicality,"  said  Leicester,  "  and  if  the  Supreme 
Court  ain't  right,  who  is  ?  Do  you  think  he's  going 
to  give  over  this  country  to  a  papist?  No,  the 
only  king  here  is  Tanumafili,  and  the  men-of-war 
will  reinstate  him  at  the  muzzle  of  their  guns. 
Then  we'll  see  who's  who  in  Samoar ! " 

Jack  made  his  way  across  the  street  to  the  store 
where  he  usually  sold  his  copra.  Bullets  were  pat 
tering  on  the  roof,  and  the  trader  himself,  a  portly 

26 


THE   RENEGADE 


German  in  gold  spectacles,  was  palpitating  in  a 
bomb-proof. 

"  I  hope  Mrs.  Meyerfeld  is  well,"  said  Jack,  who 
in  Samoa  had  grown  punctilious. 

"  Oh,  mein  Gott !  "  exclaimed  Meyerfeld. 

"And  the  children?—"  inquired  Jack,  "Miss 
Hilda  and  Miss  Theresa  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mein  Gott !  "  said  Meyerfeld. 

"  I  have  brought  you  forty  bags  of  copra,"  said 
Jack. 

"Oh,  mein  Gott!"  said  Meyerfeld. 

"  Don't  you  want  it,  then  ?  "  inquired  Jack. 

"  Hear  the  pullets,"  quavered  Meyerfeld. 

"  But  forty  bags,"  said  Jack. 

"  I've  no  man,  no  noding,"  groaned  the  trader. 
"  Gome  again  negst  week.  Gome  again  after  de 
war." 

"  I'll  put  it  in  the  shed  myself,"  said  Jack. 

He  went  out  into  the  empty  street  and  looked 
about  him.  The  firing  was  going  on  as  hotly  as 
ever,  but  except  for  a  single  limp  figure,  face  down 
in  the  dust,  he  failed  to  see  the  least  sign  of  the 
contending  parties.  From  the  direction  of  the 
Mulivai  bridge  he  heard  bursts  of  cheering,  with 
intermittent  lulls  and  explosions  as  the  battle  rolled 
to  and  fro.  War  on  so  small  a  scale  is  startlingly 
like  murder,  and  Jack  shuddered  as  he  went  up  to 
the  corpse  and  turned  it  over.  He  returned  to  his 
boat,  and  in  a  fever  of  activity  unloaded  his  forty 

27 


WILD   JUSTICE 


bags  and  trundled  them  in  batches  into  Meyer- 
feld's  copra  shed  across  the  road.  It  took  half  a 
dozen  trips  of  the  little  flat-car  to  accomplish  this 
task  single-handed,  and  then  there  was  the  further 
delay  in  weighing  each  bag  and  checking  off  the 
contents  on  a  bit  of  paper.  Nor  was  this  all,  for 
he  had  to  make  a  copy,  besides,  and  tack  it  on  the 
warehouse  door  with  the  inscription,  "  Taly  and 
find  correct  John  Wilson." 

This  done,  he  dropped  into  his  boat  and  hoisted 
the  sails,  weary,  heartsick,  and  anxious  for  what 
the  future  might  have  in  store  for  him.  Passing 
to  leeward  of  the  British  man-of-war,  he  saw  her 
decks  swarming  with  refugees,  her  crew  grouped 
about  the  guns,  and  an  officer  in  the  fore-cross- 
trees  sweeping  the  town  with  his  glass.  A  gust 
of  wind  carried  down  to  him  the  sound  of  children 
crying,  and  with  it  an  indistinguishable  humming, 
at  once  menacing  and  dejected,  like  the  sigh  of  an 
impending  gale.  It  echoed  in  his  ears  long  after 
wards,  the  most  poignant  note  in  war,  the  voice 
of  the  herded,  helpless  multitude. 

He  reached  Oa  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  and 
the  grating  of  his  boat's  keel  in  the  sand  brought 
out  Fetuao  to  meet  him.  She  could  not  restrain 
her  joy  at  the  sight  of  him,  kissing  his  hands  and 
clinging  to  him  as  he  took  out  the  sails  and  oars 
and  carried  them  up  to  the  house.  She  never 
seemed  so  sweet  to  him,  never  so  girlish  and  charm- 
28 


THE   RENEGADE 


ing  in  her  fresh  young  womanhood  as  in  that  dawn 
of  his  home-coming.  To  hear  her  laugh,  to  see 
her  eyes  sparkle,  to  feel  her  warm  breath  against 
his  cheek,  all  transported  him  into  a  state  of  un 
reasoning  security.  Apia  and  its  blood-stained 
streets  faded  into  the  immeasurable  distance;  the 
war,  and  all  the  attendant  horrors  that  had  haunted 
him,  now  seemed  for  a  moment  too  remote  to  even 
think  of.  What  had  he  to  fear,  here  on  his  own 
hearthstone,  with  his  dear  wife  beside  him,  in  an 
other  world  from  that  he  had  so  lately  quitted? 
If  there  was  trouble,  wouldn't  the  counsuls  settle 
it,  them  and  the  treaty  officials  whose  job  it  was 
to  run  the  blessed  group?  He  had  never  been 
no  politician  himself,  and  he  wasn't  agoing  to 
begin  now.  Let  them  worry  as  was  paid  to 
worry. 

"  Fetuao,"  he  said,  "  where  is  the  flag  the  faama- 
sino  gave  us  when  we  were  married  in  Apia?" 

"  O  i  ai  pea  i  le  pusa,"  she  returned. 

"  Get  it  out,  my  pigeon,"  he  said,  "  for  I  mean  to 
hoist  it  above  the  house  for  a  protection.  And  tell 
me,  Fetuao,"  he  went  on,  "  what  before  I  have  never 
asked  thee :  on  what  side  are  thy  people  in  this  misa 
of  Mataafa  and  Tanumafili?" 

"For    Mataafa,"    she    returned.      "Dost    thou 

think  that  Samoa  wants  this  untattooed  boy  from 

the  missionary  college?    Why  else  did  Faalelei  and 

the  young  men  go  last  month  to  Apia  to  be  num- 

29 


WILD   JUSTICE 


bered  for  Mataafa,  the  whites  promising  that  he 
who  had  most  voices  should  be  king?  And  when 
all  Samoa  cried  out  '  Mataafa ! '  at  the  numbering 
place  (all  except  the  little  handful  of  the  Tuama- 
sanga),  lo!  the  word  was  given  that  Tanumafili 
was  appointed  after  all,  and  that  the  white  manner 
of  choice  was  to  be  disregarded !  " 

Jack  sighed  as  he  took  the  flag  and  went  out 
with  it.  He  realized  that  his  old  life  was  at  an 
end,  and  that  a  new  one,  full  of  uncertainty  and 
danger,  was  to  date  from  the  time  he  hoisted  this 
bit  of  bunting.  He  trimmed  a  straight  piece  of 
fuafua  for  a  staff,  and  as  he  did  so  he  cursed  the 
missionaries  for  meddlers  and  the  treaty  officials 
for  crazy  fools.  When  the  flag  was  at  last  in 
place,  Fetuao  and  he  drew  away  to  get  a  better 
view  of  it  from  the  beach.  Standing  there,  in 
silence  they  watched  the  vivid  colors  flaunt  and 
flutter  against  the  wooded  hills  behind,  while  Jack, 
with  a  seaman's  instinctive  reverence  for  the  flag, 
bared  his  head,  and  Fetuao  clapped  her  hands 
with  delight. 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful ! — "  she  cried,  "  as  starry  as 
the  nights  before  we  were  married,  Jack,  when  we 
used  to  walk  together,  here  and  there,  like  uncar 
ing  children." 

Her  husband  did  not  answer;  and  as  she  turned 
and  looked  up  into  his  face  she  saw  that  his  eyes 
were  wet  with  tears. 

30 


THE   RENEGADE 


IV 


The  two  months  that  followed  were  the  most 
terrible  in  the  history  of  Samoa.  A  handful  of 
exasperated  whites — treaty  officials,  missionaries, 
and  consuls — were  determined  to  foist  Tanumafili 
on  the  unwilling  natives  of  the  group,  and  backed 
by  three  men-of-war,  they  declared  Mataafa  a 
rebel  and  plunged  the  country  into  a  disastrous 
and  sanguinary  war.  England  and  America,  in 
the  person  of  their  respective  naval  commanders, 
vied  with  one  another  in  their  self-appointed  task; 
and  while  the  Germans  stood  aloof,  protesting  and 
aghast,  our  ships  ravaged  the  Samoan  coast,  burn 
ing,  bombarding,  and  destroying  with  indiscrim 
inate  fury.  In  this  savage  conflict,  so  unjust  in  its 
inception,  so  frightful  in  its  effects  on  an  unoffend 
ing  people,  the  Samoans  showed  an  extraordinary 
spirit  in  defending  what  all  men  hold  most  dear. 
Driven  from  the  shore  by  our  guns,  they  massed 
their  warriors  behind  Apia,  and  on  ground  of  their 
own  choosing  gave  obstinate  battle  to  the  invaders. 

It  is  not  the  writer's  purpose  to  follow  the  vary 
ing  stages  of  this  ignoble  quarrel,  in  which  blood 
flowed  like  water  in  our  vain  attempts  to  force  the 
unwilling  Samoans  to  accept  a  Protestant  divinity 
student  for  their  king.  This  little  war,  so  remote, 
so  ill  understood  at  home,  so  brief,  violent,  and 

31 


WILD   JUSTICE 


unjust,  swept  over  the  islands  like  a  hurricane. 
Abruptly  begun  by  headstrong  naval  officers  and 
officials  on  the  spot,  it  was  as  abruptly  ended  by 
peremptory  orders  from  London  and  Washington; 
but  the  interval  (necessarily  a  long  one)  before  the 
news  could  go  out  and  the  orders  return  halfway 
round  the  world,  was  sufficient  to  reduce  Samoa 
to  the  verge  of  ruin. 

In  such  a  country,  without  roads,  telegraphs,  or 
newspapers,  where  rumor  passes  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  and  facts,  in  the  process,  get  twisted  out 
of  all  recognition,  war  brings  with  it  a  period  of 
agonizing  ignorance,  when  anything  is  told  and 
anything  believed.  To  Jack  this  waiting  became 
almost  intolerable;  his  suspense,  and  the  uncer 
tainty  of  those  dreadful  days,  told  on  him  with  an 
augmented  force,  so  that  he  grew  thin  and  started 
at  a  sound.  Through  an  unseen  channel  the  news 
of  fighting  persistently  trickled  into  Oa;  more 
battles;  more  villages  bombarded;  such  an  one 
wounded,  such  an  one  killed,  with  stories  of  the 
increasing  ruthlessness  of  the  British  and  Amer 
icans.  On  some  days  the  sound  of  cannon  could 
be  plainly  heard  from  leeward,  the  signal  for  the 
women  and  children  to  crowd  with  their  pastor 
into  the  church,  and  for  the  men — the  scanty  rem 
nants  that  still  remained — to  grasp  their  rifles  and 
melt  into  the  forest. 

But  as  time  passed,  and  one  false  alarm  was  suc- 

3* 


THE   RENEGADE 


ceeded  by  another,  Jack  plucked  up  a  little  heart. 
He  began  to  make  allowance  for  native  exaggera 
tion  and  laughed  at  his  own  former  fears.  If  the 
men-of-war  should  come  to  Oa,  were  they  likely 
to  bombard  an  undefended  village  full  of  women 
and  children,  or  burn,  pillage,  and  destroy  as  mer 
cilessly  as  he  had  been  told?  Bah!  a  pack  of 
Kanaka  lies,  the  gradual  distortion  of  the  truth 
as  it  passed  along  the  line,  until  one  burned  house 
became  a  hundred  and  one  village  the  whole  coast 
of  Atua!  He  went  back  to  his  neglected  planta 
tion,  now  overgrown  with  weeds,  and  set  to  work 
again  with  a  determination  not  to  borrow  trouble. 
But,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  would  find  himself 
listening  for  the  sound  of  cannon,  laying  down  his 
ax  or  his  bush  knife  in  a  panic  and  running  back 
to  the  shore  to  make  sure  that  nothing  had  hap 
pened  in  the  hour  he  had  been  gone. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  mornings  in  the  bush, 
a  morning  singularly  free  of  the  apprehensions 
which  usually  beset  him,  that  Fetuao  came  rushing 
through  the  bananas  where  he  was  at  work,  crying 
out,  "  Manuao,  manuao!"  Together,  without  ex 
changing  a  single  word,  they  flew  headlong  to  the 
beach,  never  stopping  until  they  took  shelter  be 
neath  the  eaves  of  their  own  house.  Yes,  there 
was  the  man-of-war,  a  Britisher  with  yellow  fun 
nels,  well  outside  the  reef,  towing  behind  her  a 
flotilla  of  boats  chock-a-block  with  natives.  The 

33 


WILD   JUSTICE 


red  head-dresses  of  their  crews  showed  them  to  be 
the  followers  of  Tanumafili,  and  a  couple  of  unmis 
takable  pith  helmets  in  the  stern  of  the  biggest 
betrayed  the  presence  of  directing  white  men.  At 
the  tail  of  the  boats  was  a  large  steam  launch  flying 
the  stars  and  stripes,  the  American  contribution  to 
the  little  fleet. 

Jack  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  at  the  sight  of 
his  own  flag.  Wherever  that  flew  he  knew  that 
he  and  his  were  safe.  By  George!  everybody  in 
Oa  Bay  was  safe  so  long  as  they  didn't  try  to 
make  a  fight  of  it;  and  he  could  have  laughed  to 
see  the  terrified  women  scooting  for  the  church,  the 
children  bawling  at  their  heels.  The  fools,  what 
had  they  to  fear?  American  officers  were  not  the 
kind  to  fire  on  women  and  children,  nor  were  they 
likely  to  look  on  mum-chance;  and  let  the  lime- 
juicers  do  it  neither.  No,  sirree ! 

The  man-of-war  slowed  down  her  engines  and 
came  almost  to  a  standstill.  There  was  a  sudden 
flash  from  one  of  her  sponsons,  a  puff  of  smoke, 
and  then  the  roar  of  a  six-inch  gun.  The  shell 
struck  a  palm  not  a  hundred  yards  from  where 
Jack  was  standing,  and  with  a  loud  explosion  took 
off  the  entire  top  as  neatly  as  though  a  knife  had 
sliced  it. 

"  Good  God !  "  cried  the  sailor ;  and  the  words 
were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  before  he  heard 
the  venomous  rush  of  another  shell.  Jack  could 

34 


THE   RENEGADE 


not  believe  his  senses.  What!  no  warning,  no 
notice  beforehand;  not  even  ten  minutes  to  allow 
the  women  and  children  to  get  out  of  danger! 

Bang!  The  church  this  time!  He  clutched 
Fetuao  as  he  saw  the  shower  of  cement  and  rocks, 
and  the  frenzied  flight  of  its  occupants  for  safety. 
If  that  shell  had  gone  through  the  window  in 
stead  of  striking  the  corner 

Bang! 

"  Run !  run ! "  cried  Fetuao,  and  without  even 
waiting  for  him  to  follow  or  turning  round  to 
see  that  he  did  so,  she  darted  through  the  house 
and  disappeared.  But  Jack,  in  a  white  heat  of 
indignation,  folded  his  arms  and  remained  dog 
gedly  where  he  was.  Let  them  shoot,  the  skunks ! 
Let  them  shoot,  the  stinking  cowards!  This  was 
his  house,  and  he  would  remain  beside  it  until  the 
crack  of  doom,  shells  or  no  shells.  He  would 
stand  off  them  fire-bugs  and  looters  when  they 
landed,  and  tell  them  officers  what  a  plain  American 
citizen  thought  of  them.  He  wasn't  afraid  of  the 
swine.  By  God !  he  would  like  to  boot  the  raft  of 
them.  He  shook  his  fist  in  their  faces,  he  did ;  and 
as  for  that  villainous  launch  rolling  idly  in  the 
swell  while  the  big  bully  fired  on  the  defenseless 
town,  he  spat  to  express  his  disgust  for  it. 

The  bombardment,  like  a  salute,  continued  with 
regular  intermissions  between  each  gun.  The 
marksmanship  was  poor,  many  of  the  shells  falling 

35 


WILD   JUSTICE 


short  or  bursting  prematurely  in  midair.  Except 
for  the  church,  which  was  twice  struck,  and  the 
chief's  house  that  was  set  on  fire,  the  damage  done 
was  inappreciable;  and  Jack,  whose  heart  at  first 
had  been  in  his  mouth,  now  grinned  with  derision 
as  he  watched  for  the  recurring  flashes. 

"  The  Chilaneans  could  do  better  nor  you !  "  he 
cried. 

"  Jack,"  whispered  a  voice  beside  him,  and  there 
was  Fetuao  back  again  in  a  state  of  the  sweetest 
contrition  and  remorse.  He  took  her  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her ;  and  then,  like  a  pair  of  lovers,  they 
held  each  other's  hands  and  shrank  close  together 
as  the  shells  burst  over  the  village. 

The  firing  lasted  for  an  hour,  and  then  the  flo 
tilla  of  boats,  preceded  by  the  American  launch, 
passed  in  procession  through  the  break  in  the  reef, 
and  headed  for  Jack's  house. 

"  Oh,  it's  the  flag  they  see !  "  cried  Fetuao,  and 
she  besought  Jack,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  to  haul 
it  down. 

"  Never !  "  he  said,  grinding  his  teeth. 

There  were  some  three  or  four  hundred  men  in 
the  boats,  and  as  they  raced  in,  cheering  and  yelling 
at  the  top  of  their  voices,  Jack  quailed  in  spite  of 
himself.  But  outwardly,  at  least,  he  showed  no 
sign  of  agitation,  standing  like  a  rock  before  his 
house  and  facing  the  storm  that  was  about  to  burst. 

It  wasn't  for  himself  that  he  was  afraid,  not  so 

36 


THE  RENEGADE 


long  as  that  puffing-billy  of  a  steamboat  held  the 
lead,  and  the  grand  old  flag  streamed  out  behind 
her.  The  jackies  would  see  him  through  this  busi 
ness,  whatever  deviltry  they  might  inflict  on  the 
rest  of  the  unfortunate  village,  for  blood's  thicker 
than  water  every  time,  and  Americans  stand  to 
gether  all  the  world  over.  He  wasn't  no  politician 
nor  side-taker,  and  it  was  all  the  same  to  him 
whether  he  had  a  missionary  king  or  a  benighted 
papist.  All  he  asked  of  anybody,  by  God!  was 
to  be  let  alone,  though  this  broadsiding  of  defense 
less  people  made  him  sick  at  the  stummick,  it  did. 
The  launch  came  bumping  into  shallow  water, 
blowing  off  clouds  of  steam  as  her  crew  jumped 
out  with  their  rifles  and  waded  ashore,  while  the 
Tanumafili  boats,  dashing  up  in  quick  succession, 
amid  a  furious  and  ever-deepening  uproar,  dis 
charged  in  their  turn  cargo  upon  cargo  of  shriek 
ing,  warriors.  In  the  indescribable  commotion  that 
followed  there  seemed  to  be  no  prearranged  plan 
nor  any  settled  order  of  operation.  The  Tanus  scat 
tered  in  a  dozen  noisy  parties,  looting  and  burning 
the  houses,  barking  the  breadfruit  trees,  shooting 
the  pigs  and  horses,  devastating  with  diabolical 
thoroughness  the  inland  plantations  that  sustained 
the  village.  The  Americans,  fearful  of  ambus 
cades,  stuck  to  the  shore  and  systematically  de 
stroyed  the  boats,  which  for  a  mile  or  two  were 
drawn  up  on  the  edge  of  the  beach. 

37 


WILD    JUSTICE 


These  boats,  in  a  country  without  roads,  are  as 
much  a  necessity  to  a  man  as  the  house  which 
shelters  him.  They  often  represent  the  hoardings 
of  years,  and  are  not  seldom  the  result  of  a  stern 
frugality  and  self-denial;  they  constitute,  indeed, 
the  only  wealth  of  Samoa,  and  in  them  is  invested 
the  united  savings  of  the  whole  population.  In  Oa 
these  boats  numbered  perhaps  a  hundred,  or  a  hun 
dred  and  twenty  in  all,  which,  under  the  direction 
of  a  red-faced  boatswain  with  a  package  of  dyna 
mite  sticks,  were  one  by  one  blown  to  pieces,  and 
the  shattered  boards  drawn  into  heaps  and  fired. 
That  day  the  whole  of  Oa  went  up  in  smoke  and 
flame.  Nothing  was  spared,  not  even  the  church, 
nor  the  school,  nor  the  pastor's  house;  not  a  canoe 
nor  a  dugout ;  not  a  net,  nor  a  fish  trap,  nor  a  float ; 
not  a  pig,  a  horse,  nor  a  chicken.  The  boundary 
walls,  emerging  black  and  desolate  above  the  em 
bers  of  the  village,  alone  survived  the  universal 
waste. 

Jack's  boat,  being  the  nearest,  was  the  first  to 
be  singled  out;  and  as  the  blue- jackets  began  to 
bore  it  with  auger  holes  in  which  to  place  the 
dynamite,  he  walked  down  to  the  petty  officer  and 
roughly  bade  him  leave  it  alone.  "  Hold  on, 
there !  "  he  said.  "  That's  my  boat !  " 

The  boatswain  looked  him  up  and  down.  "  You 
get  out  of  this ! "  he  said. 

Jack  twitched  the  auger  from  one  of  the  sea- 

38 


THE   RENEGADE 


men  and  flung  it  into  the  lagoon.  Then,  seizing 
a  rifle  from  the  heap  lying  on  the  ground,  he 
whirled  it  round  his  head  like  a  club  and  advanced 
furiously  on  the  boatswain,  who  pulled  out  a  six- 
shooter  and  leveled  it  at  his  head.  Even  as  he 
did  so,  one  of  the  officers  came  running  up,  waving 
his  sword  and  shouting;  while  Jack,  confident  that 
he  had  nothing  now  to  apprehend,  dropped  the 
rifle  and  turned  to  meet  him.  He  had  scarcely  got 
so  far  as,  "  Please,  sir,  this  boat  is  my  property," 
when  a  scream  from  Fetuao  warned  him  that  the 
natives  were  rushing  his  house.  Abandoning  the 
boat,  he  ran  back  to  face  this  new  danger,  which, 
of  the  two,  was  so  infinitely  the  worse.  His  first 
instinct  was  to  snatch  a  hatchet  and  kill  one  of  the 
half-naked  plunderers,  but  Fetuao,  catching  his 
hands,  held  him  back,  and  the  impulse  passed  as 
he  realized  his  utter  helplessness.  With  smarting 
eyes  and  a  heart  that  seemed  to  burst  within  his 
breast,  he  saw  his  house  gutted  of  everything — 
his  chests  torn  open,  his  tools  taken,  his  wife's 
poor  finery  divided,  and  her  twenty-dollar  sewing 
machine  the  subject  of  a  wrangle  that  ended  in  its 
being  smashed  under  the  butt  of  a  gun.  It  was 
horrible  to  look  on,  impotent  and  raging,  and  see 
the  fruit  of  three  years  the  prey  of  these  yelling 
savages;  to  realize  that  he  must  begin  again  from 
the  bottom;  that  all  his  labor,  and  care,  and  thrift, 
had  gone  for  nothing.  Not  daring  to  leave  Fetuao 

39 


WILD   JUSTICE 


behind,  he  took  her  with  him  and  started  off  to 
find  the  officer  to  whom  he  had  at  first  complained. 
His  protest  had  not  apparently  been  very  effective, 
to  judge  from  the  torn  fragments  of  the  boat  now 
blazing  in  a  bonfire,  and  he  was  hardly  encouraged 
to  make  a  second  attempt.  However,  slim  as  the 
chance  was,  it  was  now  the  only  thing  left  to  do. 
Surely  it  was  not  possible  that  they  would  let  his 
house  be  looted  and  fired  with  the  others! 

The  officer,  a  thin  young  man  with  a  cigar,  was 
standing  in  the  shade  of  a  palm. 

"  Mister,"  said  Jack  timidly,  for  somehow  all  the 
fight  had  oozed  out  of  him,  "Mister,  they're  loot 
ing  my  house  up  there !  " 

"Well?"  said  the  officer. 

"  I'm  an  American,"  said  Jack. 

"Well?"  said  the  officer. 

Jack  regarded  him  helplessly.  "  Can't  you  do 
nothing  for  an  American  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  for  a  damned  beachcomber,"  said  the  offi 
cer,  turning  on  his  heel. 

Jack  did  not  attempt  to  follow  or  to  pester  him. 
He  knew  when  he  was  beat.  He  sat  down  on  the 
nearest  log,  and  making  room  for  Fetuao  beside 
him,  drew  out  his  pipe,  filled  it  and  began  to  smoke. 
The  girl  tried  to  speak  to  him,  but  he  would  not 
answer.  She  whispered  to  him  that  their  house 
was  burning,  and  he  never  even  turned  his  head  to 
look.  She  took  his  hand,  but  he  snatched  it  im- 
40 


THE   RENEGADE 


patiently  away,  refusing  to  be  comforted.  Thus 
he  remained  for  hours,  sullen  and  half-stupefied, 
until  the  returning  Tanus  embarked  again,  and  the 
launch,  with  jubilant  whistles,  led  the  flotilla  back 
to  the  man-of-war.  It  was  only  when  the  ship 
was  out  of  sight  that  Jack  rose,  stretched  himself, 
and  breathed  the  profound  sigh  of  a  man  who  has 
endured  and  has  survived  the  most  terrible  experi 
ence  of  a  lifetime. 

With  slow  steps,  and  many  expressions  of  anger 
and  resentment,  Fetuao  and  he  walked  through 
the  village,  gazing  with  bitter  curiosity  at  the  ruins 
that  everywhere  surrounded  them.  They  made 
their  way  to  their  own  little  plantation,  to  find  it 
devastated  like  the  others,  the  breadfruit  trees 
ringed,  the  coffee  bushes  torn  up  by  the  roots, 
the  taro,  bananas,  and  vanilla  cut  to  pieces.  In 
the  paddock  the  cow  and  calf  lay  dead  in  a  pool 
of  blood ;  of  the  dairy,  half-set  in  the  stream,  noth 
ing  remained  but  some  stumps  and  smoking  ashes ; 
under  a  felled  mango  tree  they  saw  the  protruding 
hoofs  of  Fetuao's  mare,  Afiola. 

Returning  with  a  few  bananas  they  managed  to 
find  in  the  plantation,  they  built  a  fire  and  roasted 
them  within  a  few  feet  of  where,  that  morning, 
their  house  had  stood.  Though  nothing  now  was 
left  of  it  but  some  charred  wood,  the  place  was  still 
home  to  them.  As  Fetuao  moved  forlornly  about, 
picking  up  a  few  trifles  that  had  been  dropped  or 

41 


WILD   JUSTICE 


thrown  away  by  the  invaders — a  comb,  a  spool  of 
thread,  a  flatiron,  a  book  or  two  with  the  covers 
scorched  off—she  lifted  up  a  grimy  rag  and  tossed 
it,  with  a  little  gesture  of  disdain,  at  her  husband's 
feet.  He  spread  it  out  and  saw  that  it  was  the 
consul's  flag,  the  flag  he  had  flown  above  his  house 
with  such  confidence  in  its  protection;  the  flag 
which,  until  then,  he  had  always  reverenced. 
Jack  slowly  tore  it  into  pieces. 


Nothing  is  stranger  than  the  effect  of  the  same 
misfortune  on  different  natures.  To  Jack,  arrested 
in  the  full  tide  of  his  petty  activities,  it  was  abso 
lutely  overwhelming.  When  everything  he  pos 
sessed  was  swept  away,  and  with  it  the  routine 
that  for  three  years  had  kept  him  busy  and  con 
tent,  he  knew  not  what  to  do  nor  which  way  to 
turn.  Sunk  in  apathy,  he  spent  whole  days  in  dully 
mourning  for  what  he  had  lost.  He  would  have 
starved  had  not  Fetuao  forced  him  to  follow  her 
into  the  mountains,  where,  under  her  direction,  he 
dug  tamu  and  climbed  the  trees  for  wild  chestnuts ; 
while  she,  with  deft  hands  and  a  little  tangled 
bunch  of  weeds,  caught  prawns  in  the  pools  and 
streams.  At  her  bidding  he  made  a  tiny  hut  of 
cocoanut  branches,  a  clumsy  canoe  good  enough 
42 


THE   RENEGADE 


to  fish  with,  and  nets  from  the  sinnet  she  taught 
him  how  to  twist  out  of  cocoanut  husks.  She  even 
sent  him  back  to  work  in  the  plantation,  for  the 
bananas  at  least  could  be  saved,  and  there  was  a 
well  of  sprouting  yams  and  some  tingapula  that 
had  somehow  escaped  destruction.  But  Jack's 
spirit  was  broken;  the  old  incentive  was  gone;  he 
could  not  revive  the  energy,  the  zest,  the  interest 
that  before  had  never  failed  him.  He  did  what 
Fetuao  bade  him  and  no  more,  and  the  days,  once 
so  short,  seemed  now  never  to  end. 

One  morning  early  he  was  awakened  by  the 
murmur  of  voices  in  the  dark,  and  on  going  to 
the  door  of  the  hut  he  was  surprised  to  see  Fetuao's 
brothers,  Tua  and  Anapu,  Mele  her  uncle,  Lapongi 
the  orator,  and  a  dozen  others,  some  of  them  boys 
not  yet  tattooed.  In  answer  to  his  questions  Tua 
told  him  that  a  messenger  had  come  for  them 
with  orders  to  at  once  join  the  Mataafa  forces 
behind  Apia. 

"  And  thou  also,  Jack,"  said  Lapongi  the  orator, 
"  for  every  man  now  is  needed  to  withstand  the 
fury  of  the  whites." 

Jack,  as  usual,  turned  to  Fetuao. 

"  We  shall  both  of  us  go,"  said  she,  "  I  to  carry 
water  for  the  wounded,  thou  with  the  muaau,  a 
rock  of  strength  and  terror." 

Jack  made  no  protest.  Hell!  what  did  it  mat 
ter  where  they  went?  Munching  the  food  that 

43 


WILD   JUSTICE 


was  handed  him,  he  looked  across  the  bay,  now 
silvering  in  the  dawn,  and  wondered  whether  he 
was  not  seeing  it  for  the  last  time. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  they  passed  the  out 
posts  and  reached  the  Mataafa  camp,  which  stood 
on  a  high  plateau  overlooking  Apia.  Below  them 
the  search-lights  of  the  men-of-war  moved  restlessly 
about,  shining  at  times  with  a  bewildering  bril 
liancy  into  their  very  faces ;  and  from  the  little  war- 
encompassed  capital  there  rose  a  distant  drumming 
and  bugling  as  the  missionary  boy  king,  unsafe 
even  under  the  guns  of  Britain  and  America,  took 
his  precautions  against  a  night  attack.  After  the 
stillness  of  Oa  there  was  something  confusing  in 
the  stir  and  bustle  of  Mataafa's  big  camp — in  the 
constant  passing  of  armed  men,  the  change  of 
guards,  and  the  rousing  choruses  around  the  fires. 
There  was,  besides,  an  atmosphere  of  recklessness 
and  gayety,  engendered  by  excitement,  by  danger, 
by  the  very  desperation  of  their  cause,  that  could 
not  long  be  resisted  by  even  the  most  impassive 
recruit.  Jack  alone,  of  his  whole  party,  remained 
indifferent  and  unmoved;  but  his  wife,  all  of  the 
savage  in  her  rising  to  the  surface,  grew  intoxi 
cated  almost  to  the  point  of  delirium. 

Ordinarily  so  demure  and  quiet,  she  became 
from  henceforward  a  creature  of  another  clay. 
Whirling  her  ax  and  dancing  almost  naked  at 
the  head  of  the  Oa  contingent,  she  led  it  wherever 

44 


THE   RENEGADE 


it  was  sent,  daring  bullets  and  shells  with  smiling 
intrepidity.  In  her  wild  beauty  an  artist  might 
have  taken  her  for  the  spirit  of  war  itself,  as  she 
moved  undaunted  along  the  firing  line,  or  with 
biting  reproaches  drove  up  skulkers  from  the  rear. 
Like  some  untried  actress  bringing  down  her 
house,  she  was  overborne  with  her  own  success; 
and  the  more  she  was  praised  the  more  extrava 
gantly  and  unflinchingly  she  exposed  herself.  Un 
der  the  stress  of  those  fierce  emotions  her  charac 
ter  in  every  way  underwent  a  change  for  the  worse. 
In  war  time,  death,  always  in  the  air,  seems  to  an 
nihilate  with  its  dark  shadow  all  the  bonds  that 
bind  society  together.  Life,  hitherto  so  assured, 
of  a  sudden  becomes  the  most  transient  of  human 
gifts,  to  be  enjoyed  with  a  feverish  heedlessness 
before  it  vanishes  forever  into  the  unknown.  Thus 
Fetuao  found  and  accepted  a  dozen  lovers  among 
her  men,  and  while  still  according  her  husband  the 
first  place,  she  yet  permitted  them  liberties  and 
familiarities  that  they  were  not  slow  to  take  ad 
vantage  of. 

Deep  in  every  woman's  heart  there  is  a  love  for 
the  men  of  her  race,  a  love  motherly  and  pitiful, 
that  will  bring  the  tears  to  her  eyes  at  the  sight 
of  a  passing  regiment  and  cause  her  to  passion 
ately  mourn  the  unknown  soldier  dead.  This  sen 
timent,  this  instinct,  is  a  thousandfold  intensified 
on  the  bloody  field  itself.  The  pang  when  those 

45 


WILD   JUSTICE 


brave  fellows  fall  is  inexpressible;  her  pride  is 
strangely  humbled,  and  in  her  mad  exaltation  she 
shrinks  from  nothing,  and  makes  a  virtue  of  her 
own  abandonment. 

Jack  followed  Fetuao  everywhere,  a  despondent, 
woe-begone  figure,  who,  amid  the  hail  of  bullets 
and  the  yells  of  contending  warriors,  lay  or  ran  or 
advanced  with  the  others  in  a  black  preoccupation. 
He  had  not  a  spark  of  interest  in  the  struggle;  his 
thoughts  were  forty  miles  away  in  that  ruined 
home,  with  his  plants,  and  trees,  and  shrubs,  his 
cow,  and  his  chickens.  What  victory  could  give 
them  back?  What  terror  had  a  defeat  for  one 
who  had  already  lost  his  all !  He  lived  in  the  past, 
in  those  frugal,  thrifty,  laborious  years;  for  the 
present  he  had  but  an  indifference,  an  apathy, 
that  he  had  not  even  the  desire  to  shake  off. 

He  became  the  butt  of  the  warriors,  who  brought 
him  their  rifles  to  mend  and  called  him  a  coward 
for  his  pains.  They  envied  him  Fetuao,  who,  for 
all  her  flirtations,  slept  every  night  by  his  side  and 
was  not  happy  when  he  was  out  of  her  sight.  They 
nicknamed  him  her  "  Paalangi  dog,"  and  would 
whistle  to  him  derisively  and  shout,  "  Come  'ere ! " 
secure  in  the  chronic  absent-mindedness  that  had 
become  a  joke  to  them  all.  When  he  answered, 
as  he  always  answered,  "Eh,  what?"  and  raised 
his  vacant,  moody  face,  there  would  be  an  outburst 
of  laughter,  in  which  he  himself  joined  with  a 


THE   RENEGADE 


mirthless  geniality,  like  a  man  unbending  to  a  lot 
of  children.  If  a  shell  went  off  some  one  was  sure 
to  cry,  "  Eh,  what  ? "  and  this  phrase,  together 
with  a  mimicry  of  Jack's  slow,  dejected  utterance 
of  it,  became  the  stock  pleasantry  of  the  camp 
humorists,  who  brought  it  out  on  all  occasions. 

The  conflicts  about  Apia  were  mostly  affairs  of 
outposts,  a  pressing  in  and  a  pressing  back  of  the 
pickets  on  either  side.  The  naval  commanders,  in 
spite  of  repeated  bombardments  and  the  enormous 
havoc  they  wrought  along  the  coasts,  found  them 
selves  hardly  able  to  do  more  than  hold  their  own 
against  the  Mataafa  army.  The  safety  of  Apia 
was  constantly  in  jeopardy,  though  barricades  were 
thrown  up  in  the  streets  and  three  hundred  men 
landed  from  the  ships.  A  desperate  night  attack 
on  the  main  guard  at  the  Tivoli  Hotel  betrayed 
the  weakness  of  the  whites  to  friends  and  foes 
alike,  and  redoubled  the  anxiety  of  the  admiral 
and  captains.  It  was  plain  that  no  decisive  blow 
could  be  struck  pending  the  arrival  of  the  reen- 
forcements  that  had  been  urgently  cabled  for  from 
New  Zealand,  unless  a  better  use  were  made  of 
the  missionary  levies  on  the  spot.  These  loose 
native  organizations  were  accordingly  broken  up, 
consolidated  into  a  single  compact  force  of  eight 
hundred  men,  well  armed  and  well  drilled,  and 
placed  under  the  absolute  command  of  a  naval 
lieutenant. 

47 


WILD   JUSTICE 


This  fine  force,  supported  by  whites  and  Max 
ims,  was  counted  on  to  retrieve  the  situation  and 
drive  Mataafa  from  his  mountain  stronghold.  The 
plan  for  a  joint  attack  was  accordingly  drawn  up. 
A  quota  of  seamen  and  marines,  with  a  couple  of 
machine  guns,  was  to  form  the  center  of  the  little 
army,  while  the  native  brigade  on  either  wing  was 
to  advance  simultaneously,  lap  round  and  outflank 
the  Mataafas.  This  operation,  covered  by  a  terrific 
bombardment  from  the  three  ships  of  war,  was 
forthwith  begun;  on  its  success  was  staked  the 
hopes  of  the  little  clique  who  had  so  lightly  adopted 
the  cause  of  a  divinity  student  of  seventeen,  against 
the  vote  and  wish  of  well-nigh  all  Samoa. 

On  that  day  the  Oa  party  held  the  center  of  the 
Mataafa  line,  a  stone  wall  stretching  across  a  wide 
clearing  to  the  forest  on  either  side.  It  was  the 
post  of  honor,  for  it  crossed  the  road  up  which 
the  enemy  were  toiling  with  their  guns,  and 
guarded  the  headquarters  of  the  patriot  king,  not 
a  hundred  yards  behind.  In  the  trampled  grass 
two  hundred  men  sat  or  lay  with  their  rifles  in 
their  hands  and  listened  to  the  measured  periods 
of  the  orators  exhorting  them  to  remember  their 
wrongs  and  die  fighting.  These  old  men,  white- 
haired,  scarred  with  the  wounds  of  bygone  battles, 
their  wrinkled  hands  clasping  the  staves  on  which 
they  leaned,  never  winced  as  the  shells  whistled 
above  their  heads,  nor  abated  by  a  hair's  breadth 
48 


THE   RENEGADE 


their  tone  of  strident  warning  and  encouragement. 
At  such  a  distance,  and  against  a  target  six  hun 
dred  feet  above  the  sea  level,  the  men-of-war  made 
poor  practice  and  did  little  more  than  waste  their 
ammunition.  But  the  shattering  detonations  of 
their  guns,  and  the  thundering  echoes  rolling  and 
re-rolling  round  the  bay,  made  pleasant  music  for 
their  crews  ashore.  It  seemed  incredible  that  such 
earth-shaking  explosions  could  be  wholly  without 
effect,  and  the  tired  seamen  sweating  up  the  hill 
were  kindled  by  the  thought  that  the  rebels  were 
already  suffering  heavily  and  likely  to  run  at  the 
first  encounter. 

Sitting  listlessly  on  a  boulder,  Jack  scarcely  took 
in  the  fact  that  anything  out  of  the  way  was  about 
to  happen.  His  only  concern  was  not  to  be  too  far 
from  Fetuao,  and  so  long  as  he  had  her  in  his 
sight  he  was  dumbly  content.  He  was  as  solitary 
among  the  thronging  warriors  as  any  castaway  in 
mid-ocean,  and  his  patient,  stolid,  inexpressive  face, 
grown  older  in  a  month  by  a  dozen  years,  was  the 
only  one  which  failed  to  reflect  the  coming  con 
flict.  Fetuao,  on  the  contrary,  was  on  fire  from 
top  to  toe;  her  saucy  tongue  was  loosened,  and 
her  bright  eyes  dancing  in  wild  excitement.  Joking 
and  laughing  in  the  roaring  circle  of  her  admirers, 
she  matched  her  quick  wit  against  them  all  in  a 
victorious  scream  of  banter  and  repartee. 

Suddenly  a  shot  rang  out  in  the  lower  woods; 

49 


WILD   JUSTICE 


then  two,  with  a  faltering  third ;  then  a  scattered 
volley  like  a  bunch  of  firecrackers  going  off  at 
once.  A  score  of  men  showed  at  the  turn  of  the 
road  doubling  back  for  dear  life,  the  pickets  who 
had  been  dislodged  and  driven  in  by  the  advancing 
whites.  They  had  hardly  leaped  the  wall,  panting, 
and  crouching  with  the  main  body  behind  it,  when 
the  machine  guns  wheeled  into  the  open  and  began 
to  fire.  In  the  first  murderous  crash  it  seemed  as 
though  nothing  human  could  withstand  them,  and 
the  blue- jackets,  dotted  here  and  there  in  the  grass, 
raised  an  exultant  yell,  and  some  even  sprang  up 
in  anticipation  of  the  call  to  charge.  But  the  men 
that  worked  the  guns  had  to  stand  exposed  and 
helpless  before  a  fire  more  galling  than  their  own. 
They  began  to  drop,  and  those  who  were  unhurt 
disconcertedly  turned  and  ran.  A  couple  of  offi 
cers  sprang  out  of  the  grass  to  take  charge  of  the 
abandoned  guns,  managing  in  their  flurry  to  jam 
them  both.  For  a  minute  they  tinkered  and  ham 
mered  at  the  choked  mechanism,  exposing  them 
selves,  as  they  did  so,  to  the  concentrated  volleys 
of  a  hundred  Samoan  rifles.  Of  a  sudden,  one 
clapped  his  hand  to  his  breast  and  sank  on  his 
knees;  his  comrade  caught  him  round  the  body 
and  dragged  him  back,  leaving  the  guns,  now 
silent  and  useless,  to  shine  innocuously  in  the  sun. 
All  this  while  the  woods  on  either  hand  rever 
berated  with  the  volleys  and  the  cheers  of  an  ex- 

5° 


THE   RENEGADE 


tended  battle,  and  a  haze  of  powder  smoke  drifted 
above  the  tree  tops.  No  one  knew  how  the  day 
was  going,  and  the  most  conflicting  rumors  ran 
like  wildfire  through  the  Mataafa  lines  together 
with  the  names  of  such  an  one  killed  and  such  an 
one  wounded.  Dodging  the  bullets,  Fetuao  flitted 
about  with  water  for  the  parched  fighters,  passing 
the  news  and  rolling  cigarettes  for  such  of  the 
wounded  as  were  not  too  far  gone  to  care  for 
them.  Occasionally  she  ferreted  out  a  trembling 
wretch  in  the  rear  and  drove  him  to  the  front  with 
taunts;  or,  if  he  were  too  panic-stricken  to  get  up, 
she  had  no  compunction  in  thrashing  him  with  a 
stick  until  he  did  so.  The  little  savage  was  beside 
herself  as  she  danced  and  sang  like  a  wanton  child 
in  the  rain — a  rain  of  Martini  and  Lee-Remington 
balls  stinging  the  air  all  about  her. 

After  the  machine  guns  were  put  out  of  action 
the  fight  became  a  rifle  duel,  which  went  on  briskly 
for  upward  of  an  hour.  Again  and  again  the 
whites  rose  in  the  grass,  blundered  forward  and 
took  cover,  each  rush  stemmed  by  the  Oas,  who, 
darting  up  from  their  wall,  gave  volley  for  volley 
at  point-blank  range.  Standing  in  a  slop  of  blood, 
their  great  naked  feet  trampling  the  dead  and 
writhing  bodies  of  their  comrades,  they  rivaled  the 
rocky  wall  itself  in  the  unflinching  obstinacy  of 
their  resistance.  It  was  then  the  battle  reached 
its  deadliest  stage,  more  falling  in  those  terrible 

51 


WILD   JUSTICE 


minutes  than  during  the  whole  previous  course  of 
the  action.  There  was  no  shouting,  no  cheering,  but 
with  clenched  teeth  each  man  held  his  place  and 
panted  for  the  supreme  moment  that  should  spell 
either  victory  or  rout.  That  moment  came  with 
the  bugle  call  to  charge,  when  the  whites,  rising 
for  the  last  time,  flung  themselves  forward  with 
bayonets  fixed.  On  they  came,  crimson-faced, 
mouths  open,  British  and  Americans  in  a  pellmell 
rush  like  a  rally  of  boys  at  football.  Even  as  they 
did  so,  Fetuao  leaped  bolt  upright  on  the  wall,  and 
swinging  her  carbine  round  her  head,  opposed  her 
slender  body  to  the  whole  attack.  In  an  instant 
she  was  tumbling  backward  with  a  bullet  through 
her  throat,  and  as  she  lay  coughing  and  strangling 
in  the  mire,  Jack  ran  forward  with  a  cry  and 
caught  her  in  his  arms.  There  she  died,  amid  the 
crash  and  roar  of  a  hand-to-hand  fight,  jostled  and 
stumbled  on,  her  little  hot  hands  clinging  to  his 
in  the  convulsive  grasp  of  dissolution. 

Jack  sprang  up  like  a  madman.  He  had  no 
thought  in  his  dizzy  head  but  vengeance — ven 
geance,  sudden,  bloody,  and  swift.  He  plunged 
into  the  thickest  of  the  fray,  cursing  and  raving 
as  he  opened  a  path  with  his  brawny  shoulders. 
A  seaman  tried  to  drive  him  through  with  a  bayo 
net,  but  he  caught  the  fellow  round  the  neck  and 
throttled  him;  he  wrenched  away  the  weapon  and 
stabbed  out  with  it  right  and  left,  with  a  strength, 

52 


"In  an  instant  she  was  tumbling  backward." 


THE   RENEGADE 


skill,  and  ferocity  that  nothing  could  withstand. 
He  was  fired  at  again  and  again;  his  ashen  face 
was  twenty  times  a  target,  once  at  so  close  a  range 
that  the  powder  burned  his  very  skin.  As  the  line 
swayed  to  and  fro  in  that  desperate  final  struggle, 
there  was  a  hoarse  cry  against  him,  constantly 
repeated,  of,  "  Shoot  that  white  man !  "  "  Kill  the 
renegade !  "  But  Jack,  seemingly  proof  against 
bullet  and  sword,  stood  his  ground  like  a  lion  and 
clubbed  the  butt  of  his  gun  into  the  faces  of  his 
foes;  and  when  the  whites,  at  last  losing  heart, 
began  to  weaken  and  fall  back,  it  was  Jack  that 
led  the  Samoan  charge,  waving  a  dripping  bayonet, 
and  bellowing  like  a  maniac  for  the  rest  to  follow 
him. 

He  stopped  beside  the  guns,  laughing  wildly  to 
see  the  blue- jackets  scattering  like  rabbits  down  the 
hill,  and  throwing  away  their  rifles,  water  bottles, 
and  accouterments  in  their  precipitate  flight.  There 
were  wounded  men  lying  all  about  him,  groaning, 
some  of  them,  and  calling  out  faintly  for  help; 
but,  hell!  what  did  he  care!  Let  th«m  groan,  the 
skunks;  let  them  remember  the  women  and  chil 
dren  they  had  bombarded,  and  the  houses  they  had 
burned,  and  the  honest  hearts  they  had  broken! 
To  hell  with  them!  Besides,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  he  was  feeling  sort  of  sick  himself — sort 
of  numb  and  shivery — and  he  staggered  like  a 
drunken  man  as  he  went  slowly  back  up  to  the 

53 


wall.  It  was  all  he  could  do  to  straddle  the  blamed 
thing,  and  then  it  was  only  with  the  help  of  a 
wounded  Samoan  who  took  his  hand.  The  Kana 
ka,  dizzily  seen  through  a  kind  of  mist,  was  no 
other  than  Tua;  together,  like  men  in  a  dream, 
they  searched  for  Fetuao's  body;  and  dragging  it 
out  of  the  shambles  where  it  lay,  they  tried  to 
clean  away  the  blood  with  wisps  of  grass.  Jack  was 
sitting  with  the  girl's  head  in  his  lap  when  he  be 
gan  to  sway  unsteadily  backward  and  forward,  feel 
ing  strangely  sleepy  and  cold.  He  moaned.  He 
gasped.  Hell!  they  must  have  plugged  him  some 
where,  after  all.  And  then  he  rolled  over — dead. 


THINGS  had  been  dull  in  Apia  before  the  arrival 
of  Captain  Satterlee  in  the  Southern  Belle.  Not 
business  alone — which  was,  of  course,  only  to  be 
expected,  what  with  the  civil  war  being  just  over 
and  the  Kanakas  driven  to  eat  their  cocoanuts  in 
stead  of  selling  them  to  traders  in  the  form  of 
copra — but,  socially  speaking,  the  little  capital  of 
the  Samoan  group  had  been  next  door  to  dead. 
Picnics  had  been  few;  a  heavy  dust  had  settled 
on  the  floor  of  the  public  hall — a  galvanized  iron 
barn  which  social  leaders  could  rent  for  six  Chile 
dollars  a  night,  lights  included;  the  butcher's  wed 
ding,  contrary  to  all  expectation,  had  been  strictly 
private,  and  might  almost  have  slipped  by  unno 
ticed  had  it  not  been  for  a  friendly  editorial  in  the 
Samoa  Weekly  Times;  and  with  the  exception  of 
an  auction,  a  funeral,  and  a  billiard  tournament 
at  the  International  Hotel,  a  general  lethargy  had 
overtaken  Apia  and  the  handful  of  whites  who 
made  it  their  home. 

As  Mr.  Skiddy,  the  boyish  American  consul,  ex- 

55 


WILD   JUSTICE 


pressed  himself,  "  You  can't  get  anybody  to  do 
anything  these  days." 

Possibly  this  long  spell  of  monotony  contributed 
to  Captain  Satterlee's  pronounced  and  instant  suc 
cess.  The  topsails  of  the  Southern  Belle  had 
hardly  more  than  appeared  over  the  horizon,  when 
people  began  to  wake  up  and  realize  that  stagnation 
had  too  long  held  them  in  its  thrall.  Satterlee 
was  not  at  all  the  ordinary  kind  of  sea  captain,  to 
which  the  Beach  (as  Apia  always  alluded  to  itself) 
was  more  than  well  acquainted.  Gin  had  no  at 
tractions  for  Captain  Satterlee,  nor  did  he  sur 
round  himself  with  dusky  impropriety.  He  played 
a  straight  social  game,  and  lived  up  to  the  rules, 
even  to  party  calls,  and  finger  bowls  on  his  cabin 
table.  He  was  a  tall,  thin  American  of  about  forty- 
five,  with  floorwalker  manners,  grayish  mutton- 
chop  whiskers,  and  a  roving  eye.  The  general 
verdict  of  Apia  was  that  he  was  "very  superior." 
His  superiority  was  apparent  in  his  gentlemanly 
baldness,  his  openwork  socks,  his  well-turned  ref 
erences  to  current  events,  his  kindly  and  indulgent 
attitude  toward  all  things  Samoan.  He  deplored 
the  rivalry  of  the  three  contending  nationalities, 
German,  English,  and  American,  whose  official 
representatives  quarreled  fiercely  among  themselves 
and  mismanaged  the  affairs  of  this  unfortunate 
little  South  Sea  kingdom,  and  whose  unofficial 
representatives  sold  guns  and  cartridges  indiscrim- 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

inately  to  the  warring  native  factions.  Satterlee 
let  it  be  inferred  that  the  role  of  peacemaker  had 
informally  settled  upon  himself. 

"  In  a  little  place  everybody  ought  to  pull  to 
gether,"  he  would  say,  his  bland  tolerance  falling 
like  balm  from  heaven,  and  he  would  clinch  the 
remark  by  passing  round  forty-cent  cigars. 

The  Southern  Belle  was  a  showy  little  vessel 
of  about  ninety  tons,  with  the  usual  trade  room  in 
the  after  part  of  the  ship,  where  the  captain  him 
self  would  wait  on  you  behind  a  counter,  and  sell 
you  anything  from  a  bottle  of  trade  scent  to  a  keg 
of  dynamite.  He  never  was  so  charming  as  when 
engaged  in  this  exchange  of  commodities  for  coin, 
and  it  accorded  so  piquantly  with  his  evident  supe 
riority  that  the  purchaser  had  a  pleasant  sense  of 
doing  business  with  a  gentleman. 

"  Of  course,  I  might  run  her  as  a  yacht,  and  play 
the  heavy  swell,"  he  would  remark.  "  But,  candid 
ly,  I  like  this  kind  of  thing;  it  puts  me  on  a  level 
with  the  others,  you  know;  and  then  it's  handy 
for  buying  supplies,  and  keeping  one  in  touch  with 
the  people."  With  this  he  would  give  you  such 
a  warming  smile,  and  perhaps  throw  in  free  a  hand 
ful  of  fishhooks,  or  a  packet  of  safety  matches,  or 
a  toothbrush.  Indeed,  apart  from  this  invariable 
prodigality,  his  scale  of  prices  was  ridiculously 
low,  and  if  you  were  a  lady  you  could  buy  out  the 
ship  at  half  price.  As  for  young  Skiddy,  the 
5  57 


WILD   JUSTICE 


American  consul,  the  bars  in  his  case  were  low 
ered  even  more,  and  he  was  just  asked  to  help 
himself;  which  young  Skiddy  did,  though  spar 
ingly.  Captain  Satterlee  took  an  immense  fancy 
to  this  youthful  representative  of  their  common 
country,  and  treated  him  with  an  engaging  mixture 
of  respect  and  paternalism;  and  Skiddy,  not  to  be 
behindhand,  and  dazzled,  besides,  by  his  elder's 
marked  regard  and  friendship,  threw  wide  the  con 
sular  door,  and  constantly  pressed  on  Satterlee  the 
hospitality  of  a  cot  on  the  back  veranda. 

The  captain  professed  to  find  it  remarkable — 
which,  indeed,  it  was — that  a  boy  of  twenty-six 
should  have  been  intrusted  with  the  welfare  of  so 
considerable  a  section  of  Samoa's  white  population. 
The  roll  of  the  consulate  bore  the  names  of  thirty- 
eight  Americans,  not  to  speak  of  a  thirty-ninth 
who  was  soon  expected,  over  whom  the  young  con 
sul  possessed  extraordinary  powers  withheld  from 
far  higher  posts  in  far  more  important  countries. 
Young  Skiddy,  on  a  modest  salary  of  two  hundred 
dollars  a  month  and  a  house  rent-free,  was  sup 
posed,  if  need  be,  to  marry  you,  divorce  you,  try 
you  for  crimes  and  misdemeanors,  and  in  extreme 
cases  might  even  dangle  you  from  the  flagstaff  in 
his  front  yard. 

He  had  been  very  seldom  called  on,  however,  to 
use  these  extensive  powers.  In  three  years  he  had 
married  as  many  couples,  helped  to  baptize  a  half- 

58 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SE4S 

caste  baby,  held  an  inquest  on  a  dead  sailor,  bul 
lied  a  Samoan  army  off  his  front  grass,  and  had 
settled  a  disputed  inheritance  involving  five  acres 
of  cocoanuts.  This,  of  course,  left  him  with  some 
spare  time  on  his  hands,  which,  on  the  whole,  he 
managed  to  get  through  with  very  tolerable  enjoy 
ment.  But  until  the  date  of  Captain  Satterlee's 
arrival  he  had  never  had  a  friend,  or  at  least  so  it 
seemed  to  him  now  in  the  retrospect.  His  official 
colleagues  were  out  of  the  question — the  stand 
offish  Englishman,  the  sullen  German,  the  grotesque 
Swede  who  held  the  highest  judicial  office.  No, 
there  was  not  the  little  finger  of  a  friend  in  the 
whole  galaxy.  And  elsewhere?  Not  a  soul  to 
whom  one  could  give  intimacy  without  the  danger, 
almost  the  certainty,  of  its  being  abused.  No  won 
der,  then,  that  he  turned  to  Satterlee,  and  grasped 
the  hand  of  fellowship  so  warmly  extended  to  him. 
The  little  consul  had  never  known  such  a  man; 
he  had  never  heard  such  talk;  he  had  never  before 
realized  the  extent  and  splendor  of  the  world.  Sit 
ting  in  the  cabin  of  the  Southern  Belle,  often  far 
into  the  night,  he  would  give  a  rapt  attention  to 
this  extraordinary  being  who  had  done  everything 
and  seen  everything.  Paris,  London,  Constanti 
nople,  New  York,  all  were  as  familiar  to  Satterlee 
as  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  he  had  the  story 
telling  gift  that  can  throw  a  glamour  over  the  hum 
blest  incident.  Not  that  his  incidents  were  often 

59 


WILD    JUSTICE 


humble.  On  the  contrary,  in  his  mysterious  sug 
gestive  fashion  he  let  it  be  inferred  that  his  bygone 
part  had  been  a  great  one.  He  would  offer  daz 
zling  little  peeps,  and  then  shut  the  slide ;  a  chance 
reference  that  would  make  his  hearer  gasp;  the 
adroit  use  of  a  mighty  name,  checked  by  a  sudden, 
"  Oh,  hold  on — I'm  saying  more  than  I  ought  to !  " 
You  felt,  somehow,  that  to  have  roused  the  interest 
of  this  powerful  personage  was  to  insure  your  own 
career.  With  a  turn  of  his  hand  he  was  capable 
of  gratifying  your  wildest  ambition.  He  had  re 
marked  your  unusual  capacity,  and  had  quietly 
determined  it  should  be  given  proper  scope.  When 
and  where  and  how  were  to  be  settled  later.  These 
questions  you  left  confidently  to  Satterlee.  It  was 
enough  that  you  were  informed,  in  those  fine 
shades  of  which  he  was  a  master,  that  your  day 
would  surely  come.  On  leaving  Satterlee  you 
walked  on  air  without  knowing  exactly  why;  or 
rather  Skiddy  did,  for  by  "  you  "  I  mean  the  little 
consul. 

It  is  a  sad  commentary  on  human  nature  that  it 
is  so  easily  deceived.  A  glib  tongue,  an  attractive 
manner,  a  few  hundred  dollars  thrown  carelessly 
about,  and  presto!  you  have  the  counterfeit  of  a 
Cecil  Rhodes.  We  are  not  only  willing  to  take 
people  at  their  own  valuation,  but  are  ever  ready 
to  multiply  that  valuation  by  ten.  Obtrude  ro 
mance — rich,  stirring  romance — into  the  lives  of 
60 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

commonplace  people,  and  they  instantly  lose  their 
heads.  Romance,  more  than  cupidity,  is  what  at 
tracts  the  gold-brick  investor. 

Of  course,  Satterlee  was  a  poser,  a  fraud,  a  liar ; 
the  highest  type  of  liar;  the  day-dreaming,  well- 
read,  genuinely  inventive,  highly  imaginative,  lov- 
ing-it-for-its-own-sake  liar.  But  to  Skiddy  every 
word  he  said  was  Gospel-true.  He  never  doubted 
the  captain  for  an  instant.  Life  grew  richer  to 
him,  stranger  and  more  wonderful.  It  was  like 
a  personal  distinction — a  medal,  or  the  thanks  of 
Congress — that  Satterlee  should  thus  have  singled 
him  out.  His  gratitude  was  unbounded.  He  felt 
both  humble  and  elated.  His  cup  was  brimming 
over. 

Let  not  his  credulity  be  counted  against  him. 
After  all,  he  was  not  the  only  admirer  of  the  cap 
tain.  Did  he  not  see  Satterlee  lionized  by  the  Chief 
Justice  and  the  rest  of  his  brother  officials;  pub 
licly  honored  by  the  head  of  the  great  German 
company;  called  to  the  bosom  of  both  the  mis 
sionary  denominations  ?  Was  not  all  Apia,  in  fact, 
regardless  of  sex,  creed,  or  nationality,  acclaiming 
Satterlee  to  the  skies,  and  vying  among  themselves 
for  the  privilege  of  entertaining  him?  Never,  in 
deed,  were  there  so  many  picnics,  so  many  parties, 
such  a  constant  succession  of  dances  at  the  public 
hall.  Even  the  king  was  galvanized  into  action, 
and,  to  the  surprise  of  everyone,  gave  a  sort  of 

61 


WILD    JUSTICE 


At  Home,  where  Satterlee  was  the  guest  of  honor, 
and  received  the  second  kava  cup.  A  half-caste 
couple,  who  before  had  barely  held  up  their  heads, 
sprang  into  social  prominence  by  getting  married 
under  the  direct  patronage  of  the  popular  captain, 
and  thus  rallying  to  their  visiting  list  all  the  rank, 
fashion,  and  beauty  of  Apia. 

It  was  a  delirious  month.  There  was  an  event 
for  almost  every  night  of  it.  The  strain  on  the 
half-caste  band  was  awful.  Miss  Potter's  millinery 
establishment  worked  night  and  day.  Of  a  morn 
ing  you  couldn't  find  a  lady  on  a  front  veranda 
who  wasn't  stitching  and  sewing  and  basting  and 
cutting  out.  And  the  men!  Why,  in  the  social 
whirl  few  of  them  had  time  to  sober  up,  and  the 
sale  of  Leonard's  soda  water  was  unprecedented. 

As  the  time  began  to  draw  near  for  the  monthly 
mail  from  San  Francisco,  Satterlee  got  restless  and 
talked  regretfully  of  leaving.  He  gave  a  great 
P.P.C.  bargain  day  on  board  the  Southern  Belle, 
where  sandwiches  and  bottled  beer  were  served 
to  all  comers,  and  goods  changed  hands  at  aston 
ishing  prices:  coal  oil  at  one  seventy-five  a  case; 
hundred-pound  kegs  of  beef  at  four  dollars ;  turkey- 
red  cotton  at  six  cents  a  yard ;  square  face  at  thirty 
cents  a  bottle;  and  similar  cuts  in  all  the  standard 
commodities.  There  was  no  custom  house  in  those 
days,  and  you  were  free  to  carry  everything  ashore 
unchallenged.  A  matter  of  eighty  tons  must  have 
62 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

been  landed  all  round  the  beach;  and  the  pan 
demonium  at  the  gangway,  the  crush  and  jostle 
in  the  trade  room,  and  the  steady  hoisting  out  of 
fresh  merchandise  from  the  main  hold,  made  a  very 
passable  South  Sea  imitation  of  a  New  York  de 
partment  store.  At  any  rate,  there  was  the  same 
loss  of  temper,  the  same  harassed  expression  on 
the  faces  of  the  purchasers,  and  the  same  difficulty 
in  getting  change.  As  like  as  not  you  had  to  take 
it — the  change — in  the  form  of  Jews'  harps,  screw 
eyes,  or  anything  small  and  handy  that  happened 
to  be  near  by.  It  was  the  most  lightning  perform 
ance  Apia  had  ever  witnessed,  and  the  captain  car 
ried  it  off  in  a  brisk,  smiling  way,  as  though  it 
was  the  best  joke  in  the  world,  and  he  was  only 
doing  it  all  for  fun. 

Unfortunate  captain!  Unhappy  destiny  that 
brought  in  the  mail  cutter  two  days  ahead  of 
schedule!  Thrice  unlucky  popularity  that  found 
thee  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  woman's  favor 
instead  of  on  thy  four-inch  deck!  The  pilot  sig 
naled  the  mail;  Skiddy  put  forth  in  his  consular 
boat,  intercepting  the  cutter  in  the  pass,  and  re 
ceiving  (on  his  head)  his  own  especial  Government 
bag.  The  proximity  of  the  Southern  Belle,  and 
the  likelihood  of  Satterlee  being  at  home,  caused 
Skiddy  to  board  the  ship  and  open  the  bag  on 
her  quarter-deck.  One  stout,  blue,  and  impor 
tant-looking  letter  at  once  caught  his  eye.  He 

63 


WILD   JUSTICE 


opened  the  stout,  blue,  and  important-looking 
letter,  and 

There  were  no  white  men  in  the  crew  of  the 
Southern  Belle.  They  were  all  Rotumah  boys, 
with  the  exception  of  Ah  Foy,  the  Chinese  cook. 
This  amiable  individual  was  singing  over  his  pots 
and  pans  when  he  was  suddenly  startled  by  the 
apparition  of  Skiddy  at  the  galley  door.  The  little 
consul  was  deathly  pale,  and  there  was  something 
fierce  and  authoritative  in  his  look. 

"  Come  out  of  here,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  I  want 
to  talk  to  you !  " 

The  Chinaman  followed  him  aft.  He  had  a 
pretty  good  idea  of  what  was  coming.  That  was 
why  he  was  sewn  up  with  two  hundred  dollars  in 
hard  cash,  together  with  a  twenty-dollar  bill  under 
his  left  heel.  He  began  to  cry,  and  in  five  minutes 
had  blurted  out  the  whole  thing.  Self-preservation 
is  the  first  law,  and  he  had,  besides,  some  dim 
conception  of  State's  evidence.  Skiddy  made  the 
conception  clearer,  and  promised  him  immunity  if 
he  would  make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  This  the 
Chinaman  forthwith  did  in  his  laborious  pigeon. 
A  good  part  of  it  was  incomprehensible,  but  he 
established  certain  main  facts,  and  confirmed  the 
stout,  blue,  important-looking  letter.  As  Satterlee 
came  off  on  a  shore  boat,  pulling  like  mad,  and 
then  darted  up  the  ladder  in  a  sweat  of  apprehen 
sion,  he  was  met  at  the  top  by  Skiddy — not  Skiddy 

64 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

the  friend,  but  Skiddy  the  arm  of  the  law,  Skiddy 
the  retributive,  Skiddy  the  world's  avenger,  with 
Seniko,  his  towering  cox,  standing  square  behind 
him. 

"John  Forster,"  he  said,  "alias  Satterlee,  I  ar 
rest  you  in  the  name  of  the  United  States,  on  the 
charge  of  having  committed  the  crime  of  barratry, 
and  warn  you  that  anything  you  say  now  may  be 
hereafter  used  against  you." 

It  was  a  horrible  thing  to  say — to  be  forced  to 
say — and  no  sense  of  public  duty  could  make  it 
less  than  detestable.  Skiddy  almost  whispered  out 
the  words.  The  brutality  of  them  appalled  him. 
Remember,  this  was  his  friend,  his  hero,  the  man 
whose  intimacy  an  hour  before  had  been  everything 
to  him.  Satterlee  gave  him  a  quick,  blank,  panicky 
look,  and  then,  with  a  pitiful  bravado,  took  a  step 
forward  with  an  attempted  return  to  his  usual  con 
fident  air.  He  professed  to  be  dumfounded  at  the 
accusation;  he  was  the  victim  of  a  dreadful  mis 
take  ;  he  tried,  with  a  ghastly  smile,  to  reassert  his 
old  dominion,  calling  Skiddy  "  old  man  "  and  "  old 
chap  "  in  a  shaky,  fawning  voice,  and  wanting  to 
take  him  below  "to  talk  it  over."  But  the  little 
consul  was  adamantine.  The  law  must  take  its 
course.  He  was  sorry,  terribly  sorry,  but  as  an 
officer  of  the  United  States  he  had  to  do  his  duty. 

Satterlee  preceded  him  into  the  boat.  The  con 
sul  followed  and  took  the  yoke  lines.  They  were 

65 


WILD   J  VST  ICE 


both  dejected,  and  neither  dared  to  meet  the  other's 
eyes.  It  was  a  mournful  pull  ashore,  and  tragic 
in  the  retrospect.  A  silence  lay  between  them  as 
heavy  as  lead.  The  crew,  conscious  of  the  cap 
tain's  humiliation,  though  they  knew  not  the  cause, 
felt  also  constrained  to  a  deep  solemnity.  Yes,  a 
funereal  pull,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  everyone  when 
at  last  they  grounded  in  the  shingle  off  the  con 
sulate. 

Skiddy  had  a  busy  day  of  it.  Leaving  the  cap 
tain  at  the  consulate  under  guard,  and  sending  off 
Asi,  the  chief  of  Vaiala,  together  with  ten  warriors 
armed  with  rifles  and  axes  to  take  charge  of  the 
Southern  Belle  and  her  crew,  he  walked  into  Apia 
to  make  arrangements  to  meet  the  painful  situa 
tion.  Single-handed  he  had  to  rear  the  structure 
of  a  whole  judicial  system,  including  United  States 
marshals,  a  clerk  of  court,  four  assessor  judges, 
and  a  jail.  His  first  steps  were  directed  toward 
a  little  cottage  on  the  Motootua  Road,  the  resi 
dence  of  Mr.  Scoville  Purdy,  a  goaty,  elderly,  un 
washed  individual,  who  formed  the  more  respect 
able  half  of  the  Samoan  bar.  Mr.  Purdy  was 
forthwith  retained  by  the  United  States  Govern 
ment,  and  the  papers  of  the  case  left  in  his  hands. 
Skiddy  next  sought  out  Mr.  Thacher,  the  other 
half  of  the  bar,  and  directed  him  to  defend  the 
prisoner.  Then  he  bent  his  mind  to  the  considera 
tion  of  jails,  of  which  Samoa  boasted  two. 
66 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

The  municipal  jail  was  a  two-roomed  wooden 
shed,  sparingly  furnished  with  a  couple  of  tin  pails. 
Humanity  forbidding  the  incarceration  of  Captain 
Satterlee  in  such  a  hovel,  the  little  consul  passed 
on  to  Mulinuu,  where  the  general  Samoan  Govern 
ment  held  sway.  The  jail  here  was  on  a  more 
pretentious  scale.  It  consisted  of  a  rectangular  in- 
closure,  perhaps  sixty  feet  by  forty,  formed  by 
four  eight-foot  walls  of  galvanized  iron,  and  con 
taining  within  five  or  six  small  huts  of  the  kind 
that  shipwrecked  seamen  might  build  on  a  desert 
island.  In  fact  that  was  just  about  what  they 
were,  and  as  foul  and  repulsive  as  the  real  article. 
Owing  to  financial  stringency  the  Samoan  Gov 
ernment  was  unable  to  house  or  feed  its  prisoners, 
who  for  both  these  reasons  might  well  be  described 
as  castaways.  These  unfortunates  were  absent  at 
the  time  of  Skiddy's  visit,  employing  a  very  lan 
guid  leisure  on  the  improvement  of  the  roads ;  and 
the  consul  could  not  have  penetrated  the  jail  at  all 
had  it  not  been  for  the  king,  who,  on  being  ap 
pealed  to,  was  obliging  enough  to  lend  the  diplo 
mat  his  spare  key. 

Skiddy  stood  and  regarded  the  place  with  an 
immense  depression.  It  would  not  do  at  all.  It 
was  no  better  than  a  cattle  pen.  He  was  about 
to  turn  away,  when  the  two  Scanlons  appeared 
on  the  scene,  their  keen  noses  having  scented  out 
a  job.  The  Scanlons  were  burly  half-castes,  of  a 


WILD   JUSTICE 


muddy,  sweaty  complexion,  whose  trustworthiness 
and  intelligence  were  distinctly  above  the  average. 
The  Scanlon  brothers,  to  any  one  in  a  difficult 
position,  could  be  relied  upon  as  pillars  of  strength. 
There  was  nothing  a  Scanlon  brother  wouldn't 
do,  and  do  well,  for  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  a 
day.  Mind  and  muscle  were  both  yours — Scanlon 
mind  and  muscle — for  this  paltry  and  insignificant 
sum;  and  the  consul,  in  his  quandary,  welcomed 
the  stout,  bristly  haired  pair  as  though  they  were 
angels  from  heaven. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write,  Alfred  Scan- 
Ion  was  appointed  a  United  States  marshal,  Charles 
Scanlon  an  assistant  United  States  marshal,  and 
the  arrangement  was  made  with  them  to  take  full 
charge  of  Captain  Satterlee  during  his  trial.  He 
was  to  live  in  their  cottage,  have  his  meals  served 
from  the  International  Hotel,  and,  while  carefully 
guarded  night  and  day,  was  to  be  treated  "first 
class  "  throughout. 

"The  law  of  the  United  States,"  boomed  out 
little  Skiddy,  "  assumes  that  a  prisoner  is  innocent 
until  he  is  actually  convicted.  I  want  both  of  you 
to  remember  that." 

The  Scanlons  didn't  understand  a  word  of  what 
he  said,  but  they  saluted,  and  looked  very  much 
impressed.  When  you  bought  a  Scanlon  you  got 
a  lot  for  your  money,  including  a  profound  gravity 
when  you  addressed  him.  It  was  the  Scanlon  way 
68 


of  recognizing  that  you  were  paying,  and  the  Scan- 
Ion  receiving,  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  a  day ! 

At  the  head  of  his  two  satellites,  who  kept  pace 
respectfully  behind  him,  Skiddy  next  directed  him 
self  to  find  Dillon.  Dillon  was  a  variety  of  white 
Scanlon,  though  of  an  infinitely  lower  human  type, 
who  kept  a  tiny  store  and  cobbled  shoes  near  the 
Mulivae  bridge;  and  who,  from  some  assumed 
knowledge  of  legal  procedure,  invariably  acted  as 
clerk  of  the  court — any  court — American,  English, 
or  the  Samoan  High.  You  associated  his  heavy, 
bloated,  grog-blossomed  face,  and  black-dyed  whis 
kers,  as  an  inevitable  part  of  the  course  of  jus 
tice.  It  was  his  custom  to  take  longhand  notes  of 
all  court  proceedings,  as,  of  course,  stenographers 
were  unknown  in  Apia ;  and  at  times  it  would  seem 
as  though  all  Samoan  justice  boiled  down  to  dic 
tating  to  Dillon.  As  a  witness,  you  never  looked 
at  the  judge;  you  looked  at  Dillon,  and  wondered 
whether  he  was  taking  you  down  right.  A  careful 
witness  always  went  slowly,  and  used  the  words 
that  Dillon  was  likely  to  understand. 

Dillon  having  been  found  and  engaged,  the  next 
procedure  was  to  appoint  the  assessor  judges,  of 
whom  the  consular  instructions  insisted  on  there 
being  four.  This  weighty  matter  seemed  to  re 
quire  the  cooperation  of  the  vice  consul,  Mr. 
Beaver,  a  highly  respected  quack  doctor,  whose 
principal  nostrum  was  faith  cure  plus  hot  water. 

69 


WILD   JUSTICE 


After  arguing  away  your  existence,  which  he  al 
ways  could  do  with  extraordinary  fluency,  he  would 
plunge  you  into  a  boiling  bath  till  your  imaginary 
skin  turned  a  deep  imaginary  scarlet,  and  then 
send  you  home  with  some  microscopic  doses  of 
aconite.  The  best  that  could  be  said  of  him  was 
that  he  never  really  harmed  anybody,  scalded  the 
poor  for  nothing,  and  was  willing  (and  even  press 
ing)  to  turn  over  serious  cases  to  the  regular  prac 
titioner,  Dr.  Funk. 

There  were  twenty-seven  American  citizens  on 
the  consular  roll  of  male  sex,  sound  mind,  and 
above  twenty-one  years  of  age.  Four  of  them  lived 
far  from  Apia,  and  were  therefore  unavailable. 
Two  more,  as  known  deserters  from  the  United 
States  navy,  were  considered  unworthy  of  the 
judgment  seat.  Forged  or  suspected  naturalization 
papers  threw  out  another  five.  This  reduced  the 
residuum  to  sixteen,  whose  names  were  written  on 
slips  of  paper,  thrown  into  a  pith  helmet,  and  tum 
bled  together.  The  first  four  withdrawn  consti 
tuted  the  assessor  judges,  who  were  at  once  warned 
by  messenger  to  be  in  attendance  at  the  consulate 
at  ten  the  next  morning,  or  be  punished  for  con 
tempt. 

What  a  stir  was  made  in  the  little  town  as  the 

news  went  round!     Satterlee,  the  cherished,   the 

entertained,    the    eagerly    sought    after — Satterlee, 

had  been  discovered  to  be  a  pirate !    The  Southern 

70 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

Belle  was  no  Southern  Belle  at  all,  but  the  fames 
H.  Peabodyl  He  had  shipped  as  supercargo,  put 
ting  in  a  thousand  dollars  of  his  own  to  lull  Mr. 
Crawford's  suspicions,  and  then  had  marooned  the 
captain  and  mate  on  Ebon  Island,  and  levanted 
with  the  ship !  Heavens !  what  cackle,  what  ex 
citement,  what  a  furious  flow  of  beer  in  every 
saloon  along  the  beach!  It  was  rumored  that  the 
great  bargain-day  sales  might  be  canceled;  that 
the  goods  might  have  to  be  returned;  that  not  a 
penny  of  compensation  would  be  paid  to  the  un 
lucky  purchasers.  Then  what  a  rubbing  off  of 
marks  took  place,  what  a  breaking  up  of  tell-tale 
cases,  what  a  soaking  off  of  tags!  The  whole 
eighty  tons  disappeared  like  magic,  and  you  could 
not  find  a  soul  who  would  even  confess  to  a  packet 
of  pins! 

The  trial  took  place  in  the  large  office  room  of 
the  consulate.  The  big  front  doors  stood  open  to 
the  sea,  where  a  mile  away  the  breakers  tossed  and 
tumbled  on  the  barrier  reef.  The  back  door  was 
kept  shut,  to  keep  out  the  meaner  noises  of  domes 
ticity,  but  at  intervals  in  the  course  of  the  trial  you 
could  hear  the  deliberate  grinding  of  the  consular 
coffee ;  the  chasing  of  consular  chickens ;  the  count 
ing  of  the  consular  wash ;  shrill  arguments  over  the 
price  of  fish — a  grotesque  juxtaposition  that  seemed 
to  make  a  mock  of  the  whole  proceedings. 

The  consul,  in  well-starched  white  clothes  and 

71 


WILD   JUSTICE 


pipe-clayed  shoes,  sat  on  a  dais  beneath  the  crossed 
flags  of  his  country,  giving  the  effect  of  an  ele 
gant  and  patriotic  waxwork.  Below  him  were  the 
four  assessors,  sunburned,  commonish,  seafaring 
men,  with  enormous  hands  that  they  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with,  who  moved  uneasily  in  their 
chairs,  and  looked  about  for  places  to  spit — and 
then  didn't  dare  to !  One,  whose  brawny  arms  far 
exceeded  the  shrunken  sleeves  of  his  jumper,  un 
bared  to  view  on  his  hairy  skin  the  tattooed  form  of 
a  naked  mermaid.  A  table  stood  in  the  center  of 
the  uncarpeted  room,  with  a  lawyer  on  either  side — 
Purdy,  the  goaty-haired,  messy,  elderly  man,  half- 
blind,  sharp-voiced,  rasping  out  his  case;  opposite 
him,  Thacher,  a  slinky,  mean-looking  young  man, 
who  was  reputed  to  have  left  New  Zealand  under 
a  cloud.  He  looked  what  he  was,  a  cheap  lawyer's 
clerk,  of  the  pinched,  hungry  variety  one  sees  in 
gloomy  anterooms.  At  the  head  of  the  table  was 
Dillon,  the  everlasting  dictatee,  his  dyed  black 
whiskers  drooping  in  the  heat,  who  raised  a  fat 
hand  from  time  to  time  as  a  break  on  outstripping 
tongues.  And  there  the  captain,  the  cause  of  all 
this  singular  assembly,  tilting  back  in  his  chair,  or 
occasionally  leaning  over  to  whisper  into  his  coun 
sel's  ear — spare,  angular,  careworn — with  his  grim 
mouth  and  resolute  air,  as  though  the  soul  within 
him  refused  to  be  cowed  by  such  droning  tom 
foolery. 

72 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

Beside  the  front  door  was  a  shabby  basket-work 
sofa,  where  members  of  the  public  were  entitled 
to  sit.  They  would  tiptoe  in,  these  members  of 
the  public,  furtively,  as  though  expecting  to  be 
shot  on  sight,  the  bolder  ones  perhaps  exchanging 
a  whisper,  the  weaker  brethren  silent,  and  trem 
bling  if  they  caught  an  official  eye.  Outside,  on 
the  steps  of  the  broad  veranda,  the  brothers 
Scanlon  lolled  and  slumbered,  with  pewter  stars 
on  their  sweaty  breasts,  enjoying  the  deep  con 
tentment  that  comes  with  two  dollars  and  fifty 
cents  a  day. 

The  trial  lasted  two  days,  but  judgment  was  held 
over  for  the  third.  The  case  against  Satterlee  was 
complete.  The  San  Francisco  affidavits,  properly 
made  out  by  competent  hands,  were  confirmed  by 
the  confession  of  Ah  Foy,  the  cook,  who  (besides 
Satterlee)  was  the  only  present  member  of  the 
original  crew.  Satterlee  set  up  the  lame  defense 
that  he  had  purchased  the  vessel  from  Crawford, 
and  was  therefore  her  actual  owner.  He  was 
sworn,  and  gave  evidence  accordingly,  but  Purdy's 
cross-examination  left  him  without  a  leg  to  stand 
on.  He  cut  a  pitiful  figure  as  he  floundered  and 
lied  and  contradicted  himself  under  the  lash  of  that 
relentless  tongue,  miring  himself  ever  deeper  with 
explanations  that  did  not  explain,  and  agitated  ref 
erences  to  a  "  conspiracy  "  whose  object  it  was  to 
ruin  him.  No,  the  only  thing  to  be  considered 

6  73 


WILD   JUSTICE 


was  the   degree   of  punishment  that   would   ade 
quately  offset  his  crime. 

On  the  reassembling  of  the  Court  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  third  day,  little  Skiddy,  from  the  majesty 
of  the  dais,  summed  up  the  case  at  length.  It 
covered  nine  sheets  of  foolscap,  and  had  cost  him 
hours  of  agonizing  toil.  Beginning  with  a  general 
rhetorical  statement  about  the  "  policy  of  nations  " 
and  "  the  security  of  the  high  seas,"  he  descended 
by  degrees  to  the  crime  of  barratry — or,  in  plainer 
English,  the  theft  of  ships.  He  looked  at  barratry 
from  every  side,  and  the  more  he  looked  the  less 
he  seemed  to  like  it.  It  was  the  cradle  of  piracy; 
it  destroyed  the  confidence  of  owners;  barratry,  if 
frequently  repeated,  would  shake  the  whole  com 
mercial  structure.  A  person  who  committed  bar 
ratry  would  commit  anything.  In  this  manner  he 
went  on  and  on,  reviewing  the  evidence  of  the 
case,  destroying  the  whole  fabric  of  the  defense, 
dwelling  at  length  on  the  enormity  of  the  entire 
transaction.  The  James  H.  Peabody  had  been  de 
liberately  seized.  The  prisoner  had  lawlessly  con 
verted  her,  the  property  of  another,  to  his  own 
base  uses.  He  had  broken  into  the  cargo  and 
shamelessly  sold  it  as  his  own.  He  could  plead 
neither  the  extenuation  of  youth,  nor  ignorance, 
nor  the  urging  of  others.  He  had  conceived  the 
crime,  and  had  carried  it  out  single-handed.  The 
Court  could  not  accept  the  contention  that  Ah  Foy, 

74 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SE4S 

the  Chinaman,  had  been  in  any  sense  a  confederate 
or  an  accomplice.  The  Court  dismissed  the  charge 
against  Ah  Foy.  But,  after  mature  deliberation, 
its  unanimous  judgment  was  that  John  Forster, 
alias  Satterlee,  was  guilty.  The  Court  sentenced 
John  Forster,  alias  Satterlee,  to  ten  years'  penal 
servitude. 

Purdy  popped  up  with  some  question  as  to  the 
scale  of  court  fees.  Thacher  winked  at  Dillon,  and 
began  to  roll  up  his  papers.  Skiddy  descended 
from  the  dais  and  became  an  ordinary  human  being 
again.  The  captain,  leaning  forward  in  his  chair, 
gazed  absently  out  to  sea.  The  Scanlon  brothers 
appeared,  officiously  wanting  to  know  what  they 
were  to  do  next.  Skiddy  was  unable  to  tell  them, 
except  that  they  were  to  stay  by  the  prisoner  until 
he  could  consult  with  the  authorities.  He  put  on 
his  hat,  lit  a  cigar,  and  forthwith  departed. 

The  President  was  kind,  the  Chief  Justice  urbane. 
The  income  of  the  kingdom  barely  sufficed  for  their 
two  salaries,  and  they  judged  it  incumbent  (as 
they  could  do  nothing  else)  to  be  as  polite  as  pos 
sible  to  the  American  consul.  But  jails?  Oh,  no, 
they  couldn't  oblige  Skiddy  with  a  new  jail!  He 
was  welcome  to  what  they  had,  but  it  wasn't  in 
reason  that  he  could  expect  anything  better.  Skiddy 
said  it  was  a  hog-pen.  The  President  retorted  that 
the  king's  allowance  was  eight  months  in  arrears, 
and  that  the  western  end  of  the  island  was  still  in 

75 


WILD   JUSTICE 


rebellion.  Jails  cost  money,  and  they  had  no  money. 
Skiddy  declared  it  was  an  outrage,  and  asked  them 
if  they  approved  of  putting-  a  white  man  into  a 
bare  stockade,  with  none  of  the  commonest  con 
veniences  or  decencies  of  life?  They  were  both 
shocked  at  the  suggestion.  The  pride  of  race  is 
very  strong  in  barbarous  countries.  A  white  man 
is  still  a  white  man  even  if  he  has  committed  all 
the  crimes  in  the  calendar.  The  Chief  Justice  very 
seriously  pointed  out  that  it  would  disgrace  them 
all  to  confine  Satterlee  in  the  stockade,  and  force 
him  to  mix  with  the  dregs  of  the  native  popula 
tion.  Surely  Mr.  Skiddy  could  not  consider  such 
a  thing  for  a  moment.  Mr.  Skiddy  wanted  to 
know,  then,  what  the  deuce  he  was  to  do?  The 
Chief  Justice  benignantly  shook  his  head.  He  had 
no  answer  to  that  question.  The  President  mur 
mured  suavely,  that  perhaps  next  year,  with  an 
increased  hut  tax,  and  the  suppression  of  the  re 
bellion,  the  Government  might  see  its  way  to 

"  Next  year !  "  roared  Skiddy.  "  I  want  to  know 
what  I'm  to  do  NOW  !  " 

The  two  high  officials  gazed  at  him  sadly.  It 
was  a  great  peety,  they  observed  (with  an  air  of 
gentle  complaint),  that  Mr.  Skiddy  should  have 
embarrassed  the  government  at  a  time  when  its 
whole  position  was  so  precarious.  Had  he  not  bet 
ter  refer  the  matter  to  Washington?  Doubtless 
Washington,  recognizing  the  fact  that 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

Skiddy  flung  himself  out,  lest  his  anger  should 
get  the  best  of  him.  He  went  and  had  another 
look  at  the  jail,  and  liked  it  even  less  than  before. 
Faugh !  it  was  disgusting !  It  would  kill  a  white 
man  in  a  week.  It  would  be  nothing  less  than 
murder  to  put  Satterlee  into  it.  He  returned  to 
the  consulate  to  talk  over  the  matter  with  the  trusty 
Scanlons. 

Would  they  consider  a  monthly  arrangement  on 
a  reduced  charge,  giving  Satterlee  the  best  room 
in  their  cottage,  and  pledging  themselves  that  he 
should  never  quit  the  confines  of  their  three-acre 
cocoanut  patch?  The  half-caste  brothers  fell  in 
joyfully  with  the  suggestion,  and  their  first  wild 
proposals  were  beaten  down  to  forty  dollars  a 
month  for  custodianship  and  fifteen  dollars  for  the 
room  and  the  transport  of  Satterlee's  food  from 
the  International  Hotel — fifty-five  dollars  in  all. 
Thirty  dollars  a  month  for  the  hotel  raised  the 
grand  total  to  eighty-five  dollars.  Skiddy  wondered 
ruefully  whether  Washington  would  ever  indorse 
this  arrangement,  but  in  his  desperation  he  couldn't 
see  that  he  had  any  other  choice.  He  would  simply 
make  Washington  indorse  it.  It  was  with  great 
relief  that  he  saw  the  captain's  departure  from  a 
corner  of  his  bedroom  window,  and  felt  that,  for 
the  moment,  at  least,  he  had  a  welcome  respite  from 
all  his  perplexities. 

He  put  a  captain  and  crew  on  board  the  James 

77 


WILD   JUSTICE 


H.  Peabody,  and  packed  her  back  to  San  Francisco, 
at  the  same  time  apprising  the  State  Department 
by  mail,  and  begging  that  a  telegraphic  answer 
might  be  sent  him  in  respect  to  Satterlee's  impris 
onment,  and  the  expense  it  had  necessarily  entailed. 
He  calculated  that  the  telegram  would  catch  an 
outgoing  man-of-war  that  was  shortly  due.  The 
consular  salary  was  two  hundred  dollars  a  month, 
and  if  the  eighty-five  dollars  for  Satterlee  was  dis 
allowed,  the  sum  was  indubitably  bound  to  sink  to 
one  hundred  and  fifteen  dollars.  Deducting  a  fur 
ther  fifty,  which  little  Skiddy  was  in  the  habit  of 
remitting  to  his  mother,  a  widow  in  narrow  cir 
cumstances,  and  behold  his  income  reduced  to  sixty- 
five  a  month !  It  was  hardly  surprising,  therefore, 
that  Skiddy  waited  on  pins  and  needles  for  the 
Department's  reply. 

In  the  course  of  weeks  it  came. 

Skiddy  U  S  consul  apia  samoa  satterlee  case  the 
department  authorises  charge  for  food,  but  none 
for  custody  or  lodging,  bronson  assistant  secretary. 

This  was  a  staggering  blow.  It  definitely  placed 
his  salary  at  ninety-five  dollars.  He  sat  down  and 
wrote  a  stinging  letter  to  the  Department,  inclosing 
snapshot  pictures  of  the  jail,  the  prisoners,  the 
huts,  and  other  things  that  cannot  be  described 
here.  It  evolved  an  acrimonious  reply,  in  which 

78 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

he  was  bidden  to  be  more  respectful.  He  was  at 
liberty  (the  dispatch  continued),  if  he  thought  it 
advisable  as  an  act  of  private  charity,  to  maintain 
the  convict  Satterlee  in  a  comfortable  cottage,  but 
the  Department  insisted  that  it  should  be  at  his 
(Skiddy's)  expense.  The  Department  itself  advo 
cated  the  jail.  If  the  situation  were  as  disgraceful 
as  he  described  it,  ought  not  the  onus  be  put  on 
the  Samoan  Government,  and  thus  place  the  De 
partment  in  a  position  "  to  make  strong  representa 
tions  through  the  usual  diplomatic  channels  "  ? 

"  But  in  the  meantime  what  would  happen  to 
Satterlee?"  returned  the  consul  in  official  language, 
across  six  thousand  miles  of  sea  and  land. 

"  You  are  referred  to  the  previous  dispatch,"  re 
torted  the  Department. 

"  But  it  will  kill  him,"  said  Skiddy,  again  cross 
ing  an  ocean  and  a  continent. 

"  If  the  convict  Satterlee  should  become  ill,  you 
are  at  liberty  to  send  him  to  the  hospital." 

"  Yes,  but  there  isn't  any  hospital,"  said  Skiddy. 

"  The  Department  cannot  withdraw  from  the 
position  it  took  up,  nor  the  principle  it  laid  down 
in  Dispatch  No.  214  B." 

Thus  the  duel  went  on,  while  Skiddy  cut  down 
his  cigars,  sold  his  riding  horse,  and  generally 
economized.  A  regret  stole  over  him  that  he 
hadn't  sentenced  Satterlee  to  a  shorter  term,  and 
he  looked  up  the  Consular  Instructions  to  see  what 

79 


WILD   JUSTICE 


pardoning  powers  he  possessed.  On  this  point  the 
little  book  was  dumb.  Not  so  the  Department,  how 
ever,  to  whom  a  hint  on  the  subject  provoked  the 
reply,  "  that  by  so  doing  you  would  stultify  your 
previous  action  and  impugn  the  rinding  of  the  Con 
sular  Court.  The  Department  would  view  with 

grave  displeasure,  etc. " 

Satterlee  soon  made  himself  very  much  at  home 
in  the  Scanlon  prison.  His  winning  personality 
never  showed  to  better  advantage  than  in  those 
days  of  his  eclipse.  He  dandled  the  Scanlon  off 
spring  on  his  knee;  helped  the  women  with  their 
household  tasks;  played  checkers  with  the  burly 
brothers.  He  was  prodigiously  respected.  He 
gathered  in  the  Scanlon  hearts,  even  to  uncles  and 
second  cousins.  You  would  have  taken  him  for  a 
patriarch  in  the  bosom  of  a  family  of  which  he 
was  the  joy  and  pride.  He  received  the  best  half- 
caste  society  on  his  front  porch,  and  dispensed 
Scanlon  hospitality  with  a  lavish  hand.  These  un 
tutored  souls  had  no  proper  conception  of  barratry. 
They  couldn't  see  any  crime  in  running  away  with 
a  schooner.  They  pitied  the  captain  as  a  bold  spirit 
who  had  met  with  undeserved  misfortunes.  The 
Samoan  has  ever  a  sympathetic  hand  for  the  fallen 
mighty,  and  the  hand  is  never  empty  of  a  gift. 
Bananas,  pineapples,  taro,  sugar  cane,  palisami, 
sucking  pigs,  chickens,  eggs,  valo — all  descended 
on  Satterlee  in  wholesale  lots.  Girls  brought  him 
80 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SE4S 

leis  of  flowers  to  wear  round  his  neck ;  annoymous 
friends  stole  milk  for  his  refreshment ;  pigeon  hunt 
ers,  returning  singing  from  the  mountains,  deferen 
tially  laid  their  best  at  his  feet.  Nothing  was  too 
good  for  this  unfortunate  chief,  who  bore  himself 
so  nobly,  and  had  a  smile  and  a  kind  word  for 
even  the  humblest  of  his  admirers. 

On  Sundays  Skiddy  paid  the  captain  a  periodical 
visit.  He  would  bring  the  latest  papers,  if  there 
were  any,  or  a  novel  or  two  from  his  scanty  stock. 
Their  original  friendship  had  died  a  violent  death, 
but  a  new  one  had  gradually  risen  on  the  ashes  of 
the  old.  Skiddy  had  no  more  illusions  in  respect 
to  this  romantic-minded  humbug  and  semi-pirate; 
but  the  man  was  likable,  tremendously  likable,  and, 
in  spite  of  himself,  the  little  consul  could  not  for 
bear  suffering  some  of  the  pangs  of  remorse.  The 
world  was  so  big,  so  wide,  with  such  a  sufficiency 
of  room  for  all  (even  romantic-minded  humbugs 
and  semi-pirates),  and  it  was  hard  that  Providence 
should  have  singled  him  out  to  clip  this  eagle's 
wings.  There  was  something,  too,  very  pathetic 
in  Satterlee's  contentment.  He  confided  to  Skiddy 
that  he  had  never  been  so  happy.  With  glistening 
eyes  he  would  discourse  on  "  these  simple  people," 
"these  good  hearts/'  "this  lovely  and  uncontam- 
inated  paradise,  where  evil  seems  never  to  have  set 
its  hand,"  and  expatiate  generally  on  the  beauty, 
charm,  and  tranquillity  of  Samoan  life.  He  dreaded 
81 


WILD    JUSTICE 


the  time,  he  said,  when  a  ruthless  civilization  would 
sweep  it  all  away. 

Satterlee  and  he  took  long  walks  into  the  moun 
tains,  invariably  accompanied  by  a  Scanlon  brother 
to  give  an  official  aspect  to  the  excursion.  It  main 
tained  the  fast-disappearing  principle  that  Satterlee 
was  a  convict  and  under  vigilant  guard.  It  served 
to  take  away  the  appearance,  besides  (which  they 
might  otherwise  have  presented),  of  two  friends 
spending  a  happy  day  together  in  the  country.  A 
Scanlon  brother  stood  for  the  United  States  Gov 
ernment  and  the  majesty  of  law,  and  propriety  de 
manded  his  presence  as  peremptorily  as  a  chaperon 
for  a  young  lady.  A  Scanlon  brother  could  be 
useful,  too,  in  climbing  cocoanut  trees,  rubbing 
sticks  together  when  the  matches  were  lost,  and  in 
guiding  them  to  noble  waterfalls  far  hidden  in  the 
forest. 

In  this  manner  nearly  a  whole  year  passed,  which, 
for  the  little  consul,  represented  an  unavoidable 
monthly  outlay  of  fifty-five  dollars.  He  got  some 
what  used  to  it,  as  everybody  gets  somewhat  used 
to  everything;  but  he  could  not  resist  certain  re 
curring  intervals  of  depression  when  he  contrasted 
his  present  circumstances  with  his  bygone  glory. 
Fifty-five  dollars  a  month  made  a  big  hole  in  a 
consular  income,  and  he  would  gaze  down  that  ten- 
year  vista  with  a  sinking  heart.  But  relief  was 
closer  at  hand  than  he  had  ever  dared  to  hope. 
82 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

From  the  Department?    No,  but  from   Satterlee 
himself. 

The  news  was  brought  to  little  Skiddy  early  one 
morning.  Alfred  Scanlon,  with  an  air  of  gloom, 
deprecatingly  coughed  his  way  into  the  bedroom, 
and  handed  the  consul  a  letter.  It  was  written  on 
pale  pink  note-paper,  of  the  kind  Samoans  like  best, 
with  two  lavender  love  birds  embossed  in  the  cor 
ner.  It  was  from  Satterlee.  The  letter  ran  thus: 

DEAR  FRIEND:  When  this  reaches  you  I  shall 
be  far  to  sea.  My  excuse  for  so  long  subsisting 
on  your  bounty  must  be  laid  to  my  ignorance,  which 
was  only  illuminated  two  days  ago  by  accident.  I 
had  no  idea  that  you  were  paying  for  me  out  of 
your  own  private  purse,  or  that  my  ease  and  com 
fort  were  obtained  at  so  heavy  a  cost  to  yourself. 
Regretfully  I  bring  our  pleasant  relations  to  an 
end,  impelled,  I  assure  you,  by  the  promptings  of 
a  heartfelt  friendship.  I  loved  the  simple  people 
among  whom  my  lot  was  cast,  and  looked  forward, 
at  the  termination  of  my  sentence,  to  end  the  bal 
ance  of  my  days  peacefully  among  them.  The 
world,  seen  from  so  great  a  distance,  and  from 
within  so  sweet  a  nest,  frightened  me,  old  stager 
that  I  am.  God  knows,  I  have  never  seen  but  its 
ugliest  side,  and  return  to  it  with  profound  depres 
sion.  Kindly  explain  my  abrupt  departure  to  the 
Scanlons,  and  if  you  would  do  me  a  last  favor,  buy 

83 


WILD    JUSTICE 


a  little  rocking-horse  that,  there  is  at  Edward's 
store,  price  three  dollars,  and  present  it  in  my  name 
to  my  infant  goddaughter,  Apeli  Scanlon.  To 
them  all  kindly  express  my  warmest  and  sincerest 
gratitude;  and  for  yourself,  dear  friend,  the  best, 
the  truest,  the  kindest  of  men,  accept  the  warm 
grasp  of  my  hand  at  parting.  Ever  yours, 

JOHN  SATTERLEE. 

"  It  must  have  been  the  Hamburg  bark  that 
sailed  last  night,"  quavered  Scanlon. 

Of  course,  Skiddy  blew  that  Scanlon  up.  He 
wiped  the  floor  with  him.  He  roared  at  him  till 
the  great  hulking  creature  shook  like  jelly,  and  his 
round  black  eyes  suffused  with  tears.  He  made 
him  sit  down  then  and  there,  swore  him  on  the 
consular  Bible,  and  made  him  dictate  a  statement, 
which  was  signed  in  the  presence  of  the  cook. 
This  accomplished,  Alfred  was  ingloriously  dis 
missed,  while  the  consul  went  out  on  the  back 
veranda,  and  sat  there  in  his  pajamas,  to  think  the 
matter  over. 

It  seemed  a  pity  to  rouse  the  Department.  The 
Department's  interest  in  Satterlee  could  at  no  time 
have  been  called  brisk,  and  it  had  now  ebbed  to  a 
negligible  quantity.  But  it  would  be  just  like  the 
Department  to  get  suddenly  galvanized,  and  hys 
terically  head  Satterlee  off  at  Hamburg.  This 
would  mean  his  ultimate  return  to  Samoa,  and  a 
84 


THE  SECURITY  OF  THE  HIGH  SEAS 

perpetual  further  outlay  of  fifty-five  dollars  from 
a  hard-earned  salary.  No,  he  wouldn't  worry  the 
Department.  .  .  .  Let  sleeping  dogs  lie.  There 
were  better  ways  of  spending  fifty-five  dollars  a 
month. 

That  night  the  consul  had  champagne  at  dinner, 
and  drank  a  silent  toast: 

"  Good  luck  to  him,  poor  old  devil ! " 


FORTY    YEARS    BETWEEN 

"  WHAT  am  I  to  enter  in  the  log,  sir  ? "  asked 
Mr.  Francis,  the  first  lieutenant. 

"  There's  an  old-fashioned  word  for  it,"  said 
Captain  Hadow  grimly. 

"  Had  it  been  my  brother  it  couldn't  have  hurt 
me  more,"  said  Mr.  Francis. 

"  Everybody  loved  that  boy." 

"  It  will  break  his  father's  heart,  sir." 

"  A  deserter,  by  God !  " 

"  He  had  everything  in  the  world,"  said  Francis, 
in  the  tone  of  a  man  who  himself  had  fought  hard  for 
every  step.  "  He  had  influence,  money  of  his  own, 
brains,  a  splendid  professional  future,  everything !  " 

"All  thrown  away  like  that,"  said  Captain  Ha 
dow,  with  a  gesture  of  his  hand. 

"  And  the  handsomest  fellow  I  believe  I  ever 
saw,"  said  Mr.  Francis. 

"  The  pick  of  the  basket,"  agreed  Hadow. 

"  And  to  think,"  continued  Mr.  Francis,  "  that  I 
must  sit  down  at  my  desk  and  write :  '  Past  Mid 
shipman  John  de  Vigne  Garrard,  Deserter.' " 

The  pair  were  pacing  the  quarter-deck  of  H.M.S. 
Dauntless  as  she  lay  at  anchor  within  the  reef. 
86 


FORTY    YEARS    BETWEEN 

It  was  at  Borabora,  one  of  the  Society  Islands, 
and  the  time  forty  years  ago.  The  wonderful  old 
rock,  rising  sheer  naked  and  frowning  from  the 
bluest  water  in  the  world,  seemed  to  those  at  its 
foot  as  though  it  were  holding  up  the  very  sky 
itself.  Precipice  upon  precipice  dizzily  scaled  the 
basaltic  heights,  giving  here  and  there,  on  little 
shelves  and  crannies,  a  foothold  for  a  vivid  vege 
tation.  The  peak  itself,  a  landmark  at  sea  for 
ninety  miles  around,  was  half-hidden  in  the  gloom 
of  squalls  and  scud,  and  sometimes,  for  a  moment, 
it  would  be  altogether  lost  to  view  in  the  fierce 
murkiness  of  driving  rain.  Below  the  mountain, 
on  the  flat  shore  of  the  lagoon,  an  uninterrupted 
belt  of  palms  concealed  the  little  villages  of  the 
islanders.  Here,  in  idyllic  peace,  a  population  of 
extraordinary  attractiveness,  gentleness,  and  beauty 
led  their  life  of  secluded  ease.  Money  was  all  but 
unknown;  food  could  be  had  in  abundance  for  the 
most  trifling  labor;  clothes  could  be  stripped  from 
the  bark  of  trees.  Nature,  giving  with  both  hands, 
was  repaid  with  an  usury  of  poetry  and  song;  and 
these  happy  people,  children  forever  at  heart,  well 
mannered,  gay,  and  instinct  with  an  untamed  no 
bility,  bore  themselves  with  the  grace  of  those 
whom  the  gods  loved. 

"  As  like  as  not  he  is  watching  us  now  from 
somewhere  up  there,"  said  the  captain,  sweeping 
the  summits  with  his  glass. 

8? 


"  I  doubt  it,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Francis.  "  It's 
my  conviction  he  isn't  a  cable's  length  behind  the 
village." 

"  Did  you  offer  the  reward  ? "  asked  the  captain. 

The  first  lieutenant  looked  embarrassed. 

"  I  told  you  to  offer  fifty  pounds,"  said  the  cap 
tain  tartly. 

"  I  ventured  to  raise  it  to  a  hundred,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Francis.  "  We  talked  it  over  in  the  wardroom, 
and  we  thought  we  wouldn't  risk  the  boy  for  a 
matter  of  a  few  pounds  between  us." 

"  I  wonder  if  the  mess  would  have  done  the 
same  for  me  ?  "  observed  the  captain. 

"  We  hardly  look  forward  to  your  putting  your 
self  in  that  position,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Francis. 

"  No,  by  God !  "  said  the  captain.  "  When  I  quit 
her  Majesty's  service  it  will  be  neither  for  pique 
nor  for  love." 

"  No,  indeed,  sir,"  agreed  the  first  lieutenant. 

"  I've  had  my  follies,  too,  Mr.  Francis,"  said 
the  captain.  "  Every  man  who  is  worth  anything 
has  some  time  or  other  made  a  fool  of  himself 
about  a  woman.  I  don't  pretend  to  be  better  than 
my  neighbors.  I  can't  forget  I  was  once  young 
myself." 

"  I'm  afraid  even  a  hundred  pounds  isn't  going 
to  fetch  him,"  said  Mr.  Francis.  "  I  could  see  it 
in  the  king's  eyes  he  meant  to  keep  the  boy." 

"  The  lady  in  the  case  is  the  king's  sister,  I  sup- 
88 


FORTY    YEARS   BETWEEN 

pose — "  said  the  captain,  "that  tall  slip  of  a  girl 
who  was  always  making  such  sheep's-eyes  at  Jack. 
Gad !  I  don't  wonder  he  preferred  a  bower  in  Eden 
with  her  to  the  steerage  of  a  man-of-war  and  a 
pack  of  young  devils  incarnate !  Who  knows  what 
might  not  have  happened  if  she  had  made  sheep's- 
eyes  at  me,  Mr.  Francis ! " 

"  Very  true,  sir,  very  true,"  returned  Mr.  Fran 
cis,  who  had  no  sense  of  humor. 

"  She's  about  the  sweetest  thing  I  ever  saw," 
went  on  the  captain. 

The  two  men  laughed. 

"  I  hope  to  goodness  he'll  be  the  only  one,"  said 
Mr.  Francis.  "  The  fact  is,  the  whole  ship's  in 
love ;  even  the  lower  deck  is  off  its  feed ;  the  boat 
swain  says  they're  messing  up  the  rigging  with 
true-lovers'  knots,  and  I'm  told  the  marines  are 
writing  poetry." 

"  Ah,  if  it  had  been  anyone  but  him !  "  exclaimed 
the  captain. 

"  It's  horrible  to  call  him  a  deserter,"  said 
Francis. 

"  Don't  let's  do  it,"  said  the  captain. 

"  We  have  to  say  something,  sir,"  returned  the 
first  lieutenant  helplessly. 

"One  can  always  lie,  I  suppose,"  said  Hadow. 

"  There's  nothing  I  wouldn't  do  myself  for  Jack 
Garrard,"  volunteered  Mr.  Francis. 

"  Why  not  say  he  was  kidnapped  here  by  the 
7  89 


hill  tribes?  "  said  Hadow.  "  We  aren't  certain  sure 
he  wasn't,  and  no  one  can  deny  but  what  he  might 
have  been." 

"  But  the  admiral  would  be  bound  to  inquire 
into  it,"  said  Mr.  Francis.  "  Sooner  or  later  he'd 
send  a  ship." 

"  Trust  Jack  to  do  his  own  lying  when  she  gets 
here,"  said  Hadow.  "  Besides,  he'll  be  sick  of  the 
whole  thing  by  that  time  and  only  too  glad  to  step 
aboard." 

"  But  won't  we  be  asked  why  we  didn't  rescue 
him  ?  "  asked  Francis. 

"  No,  no — I  have  it !  "  cried  the  captain. 

"  It's  certainly  a  case  for  stretching  a  point,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Francis. 

"  Enter  in  the  log,"  said  the  captain,  speaking 
slowly  and  thoughtfully,  "that  Passed  Midship 
man  John  de  Vigne  Garrard,  failing  to  report  him 
self  at  the  expiration  of  his  leave,  was  afterwards 
discovered  to  have  been  kidnapped  by  the  hill  tribes 
of  Borabora  Island.  On  my  threatening  to  land 
a  party  to  recover  him,  I  was  dissuaded  by  King 
George,  who  cleared  himself  of  any  personal  re 
sponsibility  in  the  matter,  and  who  promised,  if 
only  I  would  give  him  time,  to  recover  the  man 
without  bloodshed  or  any  cost  to  her  Majesty's 
Government.  The  king  urged  that  the  use  of  force 
would  imperil  the  officer's  life,  which  otherwise 
he  had  every  confidence  would  be  spared." 
90 


FORTY    YEARS    BETWEEN 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Francis. 

"You'll  give  old  George  a  flaming  character," 
added  Hadow. 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Francis. 

"  Pile  it  on  about  his  reverence  for  the  Queen, 
and  the  way  he  gave  beef  to  the  ship,"  said  Hadow. 

"  And  what  then,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Francis. 

"  Well,  you  know,"  went  on  Hadow,  "  my  orders 
down  here  leave  me  a  pretty  wide  latitude.  You 
can't  tie  down  a  surveying  ship  in  wild  waters  the 
way  you  can  a  simple  patrol.  By  God,  sir,  I'll 
put  the  ship  back  here  in  nine  months  and  retake 
Master  Johnny  Garrard." 

"  If  he  has  any  realization  of  his  position  he  will 
then  go  down  on  his  knees  and  thank  you,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Francis. 

"  He's  more  likely  to  come  aboard  whistling ! " 
exclaimed  the  captain. 

"  Of  course,  it  will  involve  a  little — insincerity," 
said  Mr.  Francis. 

"  You  mean  we'll  have  to  lie  like  hell ! "  said  the 
captain. 

"  Well,  yes,"  observed  Mr.  Francis. 

"  I  hope  that's  understood,"  said  the  captain. 
"  But  I  can't  bear  to  see  a  fine  lad  ruined  for  a 
bit  of  squeamishness.  Were  he  thirty  he  might 
go  hang ;  but  nineteen —  Good  Lord !  one  must 
have  a  little  mercy." 

"  Where  would  any  of  us  be  now,  sir,"  said  Mr. 

91 


WILD   JUSTICE 


Francis,  "  if  we  had  each  of  us  received  full  meas 
ure  for  a  boyish  error  ?  " 

"  I  know  I  was  a  rotten  bad  egg  myself,"  said 
Captain  Hadow. 

"  If  I  may  say  it  without  offense,  sir/'  said  Mr. 
Francis,  "  I  think  you  are  taking  a  very  noble 
course  in  respect  to  this  unfortunate  lad." 

"  Of  course,  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I  justify 
desertion,"  said  Hadow  quickly,  not  ill  pleased  at 
the  compliment.  "  Gad,  sir,  it's  a  shocking  thing ; 
bar  actual  cowardice,  I  positively  know  nothing 
worse.  Were  Jack  my  son,  I'd  rather  see  him 
stretched  dead  at  my  feet.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Francis, 
that  when  I  first  heard  the  news  I  was  stunned; 
I  felt  myself  trembling;  the  dishonor,  the  infamy 
of  it  struck  me  here."  Captain  Hadow  laid  his 
hand  on  his  heart. 

Mr.  Francis  nodded  a  silent  assent. 

"  But  we'll  save  him !  "  cried  the  captain.  "  We 
won't  permit  this  ugly  business  to  blast  his  life." 

"  You  may  count,  Captain  Hadow,  on  our  most 
loyal  and  hearty  support,"  said  Mr.  Francis. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  captain ;  "  and  you  will 
pass  the  word  along  that  the  subject  is  one  not  to 
be  discussed." 

"  Quite  so,  sir,"  said  the  first  lieutenant. 

"  Not  a  word !  "  exclaimed  the  captain ;  "  and  of 
course  you  will  cancel  the  reward  before  we  sail. 
You  might  even  coach  old  George  a  bit  about  the 
92 


FORTY    YEARS  BETWEEN 

hill  tribes.  But,  of  course,  not  a  whisper  that 
we're  ever  coming  back." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Francis. 

"  That  must  go  no  farther  than  you  and  me," 
said  Hadow. 

"  It  shall  not,  sir,"  returned  the  first  lieutenant. 

"  We  shall  sail  to-night  at  the  turn  of  the  tide," 
said  the  captain. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Francis. 

It  was  not  nine  months — it  was  fifteen,  and 
some  days  to  spare — before  the  Dauntless  again 
raised  the  peak  of  Borabora  and  backed  her  main- 
yard  off  the  settlement.  In  the  course  of  that 
eventful  year  and  a  quarter  she  had  zigzagged  the 
whole  chart  of  the  eastern  Pacific ;  and  from  French 
Frigate  Shoals  to  Pitcairn,  from  Diamond  Head  to 
Little  Rapa,  she  had  sounded  and  plotted  reefs 
innumerable,  and  had  covered,  with  a  searching 
persistency,  vast  areas  of  blue  water  dotted  with 
e.  d.'s  and  p.  d.'s.1  She  had  twice  taken  the  ground, 
once  so  hard  and  fast  that  she  had  shifted  her  guns 
and  lightered  a  hundred  tons  of  stores  among  the 
gulls  and  mews  of  a  half-sunken  reef ;  she  had  had 
an  affair  with  the  unruly  natives  of  the  Walker 
Group,  and  had  blown  a  village  to  fragments,  and 
not  a  few  of  the  Walkers  themselves  into  a  land 

1 "  Existence  doubtful;  position  doubtful,"  familiar  contractions 
still  on  any  Pacific  chart. 

93 


WILD    JUSTICE 


as  uncharted  as  their  own;  she  had  tried  a  beach 
comber  for  murder,  and  had  dangled  him  at  the 
main  yardarm,  giving  him  later  on  a  Church  of 
England  service,  a  hammock,  and  the  use  of  a  can 
non  ball  at  his  feet;  she  had  poked  her  nose  into 
cannibal  bays,  where  women  of  wild  beauty  and 
wilder  license  swam  off  to  the  ship  in  hundreds 
until  the  marines  drove  them  back  with  muskets, 
and  fired  at  their  own  comrades,  who  in  their  mad 
ness  leaped  into  the  water  and  were  floated  ashore 
in  the  arms  of  naked  girls;  she  had  lain  for  weeks 
in  enormous  atolls,  where  the  only  life  was  that 
of  birds,  and  the  silence  was  unbroken  save  for 
the  long  roll  of  the  surf,  and  at  night  the  ghostly 
scurrying  of  turtles  over  the  sand;  she  had  been 
everywhere  in  those  labyrinthine  seas,  those  haunts 
of  romance  and  mystery,  with  love,  danger,  and 
death  always  close  aboard. 

It  was  morning  when  Hadow  raised  the  island, 
a  fleecy  speck  of  cloud  against  the  sky  line,  and  he 
shortened  sail  at  once  and  lingered  out  the  day  so 
as  to  bring  him  up  to  it  by  dark.  After  supper 
every  light  on  board  was  doused,  and  the  great 
hull,  gliding  through  the  glass-smooth  water, 
merged  her  steep  sides  and  towering  yards  and 
canvas  into  the  universal  shadow.  With  whisper 
ing  keel  and  a  wind  so  fair  and  soft  that  one  won 
dered  to  see  the  sails  stiffen  in  the  bolt  ropes,  the 
man-of-war  stole  steadily  to  leeward,  with  no  sound 

94 


but  the  occasional  creak  of  cordage,  or  the  hoarse 
murmur  of  voices  from  the  lower  deck.  Hadow 
himself,  pacing  the  quarter-deck  in  his  boat  cloak, 
was  lost  in  reverie,  while  the  wardroom  and  the 
steerage  in  unredeemed  darkness  held  nothing  but 
dozing  men. 

By  ten  the  ship  was  hove  to  close  ashore,  and  the 
lights  of  the  little  settlement  glimmered  through 
the  palms.  The  warm  night,  laden  with  exotic 
fragrance  and  strangely  exciting  in  the  intensity 
of  its  stillness  and  beauty,  hid  beneath  its  far- 
reaching  pall  the  various  actors  of  an  extraordi 
nary  drama.  With  pistols  buckled  to  their  hips, 
Brady,  Winterslea,  Hotham,  and  Stanbury- Jones, 
four  officers  of  the  ship,  together  with  Hatch,  a 
flinty-faced  old  seaman  who  could  be  trusted,  all 
slipped  down  the  ladder  into  the  captain's  gig  and 
pulled  .with  muffled  oars  for  the  break  in  the  reef. 
Picking  their  way  through  the  pass,  with  the  surf 
on  either  hand  roaring  in  their  ears,  they  slowly 
penetrated  the  lagoon  and  headed  for  the  king's 
house.  The  shelving  beach  brought  them  to  a  stop, 
and  all  jumping  out  to  lighten  the  boat,  they  drew 
her  over  the  shingle  and  made  her  painter  fast 
to  a  pandanus  tree.  Then,  acting  in  accordance 
with  a  preconcerted  plan,  Winterslea  was  sent  for 
ward  to  track  down  their  prey,  while  the  rest  hud 
dled  together  to  await  his  return. 

Ten  minutes,  twenty   minutes   passed  in  palpi- 

95 


WILD   JUSTICE 


tating  suspense.  A  girl  drew  by  wreathed  in  flow 
ers  ;  she  looked  out  to  sea,  then  up  at  the  stars,  and 
shrank  again  into  the  shadow.  From  the  neigh 
boring  houses  there  came  the  sound  of  mellow 
voices  and  of  laughter.  A  pig  rooted  and  rustled 
among  a  heap  of  cocoanut  shells.  Half  an  hour 
passed,  and  from  far  across  the  water,  as  faint  and 
silvery  as  some  elfin  signal,  the  ship  sent  her  mes 
sage  of  the  time:  six  bells. 

Panting  and  crouching,  Winterslea  groped  his 
way  among  them. 

"  Come,"  he  said. 

They  followed  him  in  silence,  unloosing  their 
holsters  and  grimly  ready.  A  pair  of  handcuffs 
clinked  in  Hatch's  jumper.  They  inhaled  the  deep 
breath  of  tried  and  resolute  men  inured  to  danger, 
and  accustomed  to  give  and  to  receive  an  unflinch 
ing  loyalty. 

Winterslea,  with  keen  perception,  led  the  way 
like  a  bloodhound,  skirting  lighted  houses  and  fol 
lowing  devious  inland  paths.  The  comparative 
openness  of  the  village  began  to  give  way  to  the 
ranker  undergrowth  of  the  plantations  behind  it. 
The  path  sank  into  a  choking  vegetation  that  stood 
on  either  side  and  brushed  their  faces  as  they  fol 
lowed  in  single  file.  A  fallen  tree  gave  them  the 
passage  of  a  stream. 

"  There !  "  said  Winterslea. 

The  path  opened  out  on  a  little  clearing  among 


FORTY    YEARS   BETWEEN 

the  trees,  and  showed  them,  set  on  high,  the  out 
lines  of  a  native  house.  Like  all  Tahitian  houses, 
it  was  on  the  model  of  a  bird  cage,  and  the  oval 
wall  of  bamboos,  set  side  by  side,  let  through  ver 
tical  streaks  of  light  from  the  lamp  or  fire  within. 
As  the  whole  party  drew  nearer,  they  heard,  deep 
below  them  on  the  other  side,  the  pleasant  sound 
of  falling  water,  and  realized  the  cliff  they  were 
mounting  overlooked  a  little  river  at  its  foot. 
Here,  in  exquisite  seclusion,  Jack  Garrard  had 
chosen  the  spot  for  his  moral  suicide. 

Creeping  up  to  the  house  and  looking  through 
the  cracks  of  the  bamboos,  his  comrades  had  view 
of  him  within.  Dressed  like  a  native  in  tapa  cloth, 
with  bare  chest,  and  flowers  in  his  tawny  hair,  the 
handsome  boy  was  seated  in  a  hammock.  With 
her  head  against  his  knee,  a  beautiful  girl  was 
looking  up  into  his  face,  one  hand  locked  in  his. 
In  that  land  of  pretty  women  she  was  the  one 
that  outshone  them  all — Tehea,  the  sister  of  the 
king,  for  whose  sweet  favor  every  man  on  board 
had  sought  in  vain.  And  here  she  was,  with  her 
long  hair  loosened  and  her  eyes  swimming  with 
love,  looking  up  at  the  lad  who  had  given  name 
and  honor  to  win  her  heart.  The  pair  were  hardly 
more  than  children ;  and  Brady,  a  sentimentalist  of 
forty,  with  red  hair,  sighed  as  he  peeped  through 
the  eaves  and  thought  of  his  own  dear  girl  at  home. 

Garrard  laid  down  the  pipe  he  had  been  smoking, 

97 


WILD   JUSTICE 


and,  in  happy  unconsciousness  of  any  audience  but 
the  woman  at  his  feet,  began  to  sing.  His  voice 
had  always  been  his  greatest  charm,  and  the  means 
of  gaining  him  the  friendship  of  men  much  older 
than  himself.  It  had  won  Hadow;  it  had  won 
Francis.  There  was  not  a  blue- jacket  on  board  the 
Dauntless  but  whose  eyes  had  moistened  under  the 
spell  of  Jack's  clear  tenor.  No  one  could  render 
with  such  delicacy,  purity,  and  sentiment  those 
ballads,  now  so  old-fashioned,  that  used  to  solace 
our  seafaring  fathers  in  the  fifties. 

Jack  lay  back  in  the  hammock,  and  with  won 
derful  tenderness  and  feeling  sang  "  Afton  Water," 
repeating  the  last  verse  several  times  over.  It  was 
plain  that  something  in  it,  some  phrase  or  line,  had 
deeply  moved  him,  for- he  suddenly  bent  over  and 
laid  his  face  in  his  hands,  shaking  with  a  strange 
emotion.  Tehea  rose,  and  throwing  her  arms  round 
his  neck  and  forcing  away  his  hands,  pressed  her 
lips  to  his  wet  eyes.  Even  as  she  did  so  Brady 
gave  the  signal  for  the  whole  party  to  move  round 
to  the  entrance.  He  passed  through  first,  the  others 
close  behind  him.  Jack  leaped  to  his  feet,  white  and 
speechless,  his  wide-open  eyes  those  of  an  animal 
at  bay.  Brady,  Winterslea,  Stanbury-Jones,  Ho- 
tham,  Hatch,  the  familiar  faces,  daunted  him  like 
the  sight  of  ghosts.  Friends  no  longer,  they  were 
now  avengers,  with  the  right  to  track  him  down 
and  kill  him. 


FORTY    YEARS   BETWEEN 

"  Jack !  "  cried  Brady  in  a  stifled  voice. 

The  lad  took  a  step  back.  The  girl  moaned,  and 
tried  to  run  between  Hatch  and  Stanbury-Jones. 
The  old  seaman  caught  and  shook  her  like  a  dog, 
tearing  away  the  whistle  she  put  to  her  lips  and 
dashing  it  on  the  floor.  Jack  put  up  his  hand  and 
snatched  a  pistol  hidden  in  the  thatch  of  the  roof. 
Brady,  on  the  instant,  leveled  his  own  and  thun 
dered  out: 

"Drop  it,  or  I'll  shoot!" 

"  Shoot,  and  be  damned ! "  returned  Jack,  and 
with  that  he  turned  his  pistol  on  himself,  and, 
placing  the  muzzle  against  his  forehead,  pulled  the 
trigger. 

It  missed  fire. 

Before  he  could  try  again  Brady  had  caught  him 
round  the  neck,  while  Hatch,  resigning  the  girl  to 
Stanbury-Jones,  ran  in  and  snapped  the  handcuffs 
on  his  wrists. 

"  Jack,"  cried  Brady,  "  we  aren't  going  to  hurt 
you.  We're  rescuing  you  from  the  hill  tribes. 
Man,  you're  saved !  " 

"  You  never  was  no  deserter,"  said  Hatch. 

"  Mind  you  back  us  up,  old  fellow,"  said  Win- 
terslea. 

"  Give  us  your  fin,  boy,"  said  Hotham. 

It  was  some  time  before  Jack  could  pull  himself 
together.  When  at  last  he  did  so,  and  began  to 
appreciate  the  generosity  of  his  captain  and  ship- 

99 


WILD   JUSTICE 


mates  and  their  astounding  concern  to  save  him 
from  the  penalty  of  his  crime,  he  underwent  one  of 
those  reactions  when  despair  gives  way  to  the  mad 
dest  gayety.  He  swore  at  Hatch,  and  made  him 
take  off  the  irons;  he  got  out  a  bottle  of  white 
rum  and  forced  them  all  to  drink  his  health;  he 
kept  them  in  a  roar  with  the  story  of  his  adven 
tures,  and  laughed  and  cried  in  turn  as  he  described 
his  life  ashore. 

"  What  does  she  want  ?  "  demanded  Brady,  as 
Tehea  insistently  repeated  some  words  in  native. 

"  She  says,"  said  Jack,  calmly  picking  up  the 
whistle  from  the  floor  and  touching  it  to  his  lips, 
"  she  says  I've  only  to  blow  this  and  you  will  all 
be  dead  in  five  minutes." 

A  hush  fell  upon  the  company. 

Jack,  with  an  oath,  flung  the  whistle  from  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  am  grateful.  I  am 
damned  grateful!  If  I  live  I  shall  try  and  repay 
each  one  of  you.  I  shall  try  and  be  a  better  man. 
I  shall  try  to  be  worthy  of  your  kindness." 

He  went  round  and  shook  hands  solemnly  with 
every  one  of  them.  "  Damned  grateful ! "  he  re 
peated. 

"  Let's  be  off,"  said  Brady. 

"  Now,  lad,  your  word  of  honor,"  said  Winter- 
slea.  Jack  looked  about  him  helplessly. 

"  I  suppose  I've  no  right  to  ask  such  a  thing," 
he  said.  "  I  know  how  good  you've  been  to  me 
IOO 


FORTY   YEARS   BETWEEN 

already,  and  all  that.  But — but,  gentlemen,  she's 
my  wife.  I  love  her.  I  shall  never  see  her  again. 
May  I  not  entreat  a  minute  to  myself  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Brady. 

Jack  went  over  to  Tehea  and  took  her  hand. 
He  put  his  arms  about  her,  and,  unashamed  before 
them  all,  pressed  her  comely  head  against  his  breast. 
He  tried  to  explain  the  inexorable  fate  he  was  so 
powerless  to  resist;  in  incoherent  whispers  he  told 
her  he  would  break  his  chains  and  return  to  her, 
free  in  the  years  to  come  to  devote  his  life  to  the 
woman  he  loved.  He  called  her  the  dearest  names, 
and  begged  her  not  to  forget  him.  But  she,  with 
a  perception  greater  than  his  own,  swept  away 
these  despairing  protestations  with  disdain.  The 
daughter  of  one  king,  the  sister  of  another,  could 
she  not  meet  force  by  force?  These  fierce  in 
truders,  with  their  rough  voices  and  drawn  pistols, 
who  were  they,  to  threaten  a  princess  of  the  royal 
blood  and  carry  away  her  lover  before  her  eyes? 
If  they  were  strong,  she  was  stronger;  and  what 
ship  cannon,  she  asked,  however  murderous  or  far- 
ranging,  could  penetrate  those  mountain  recesses 
whither  she  would  carry  him  before  the  morning? 
Ah,  she  said,  it  was  for  him  to  choose  between 
her  and  them;  between  Britain  and  the  island; 
between  love  and  the  service  of  the  white  Queen 
beyond  the  seas. 

"  I  have  chosen/'  he  said. 
IOI 


WILD   JUSTICE 


Her  eyes  flashed  as  she  freed  herself  from  his 
arms. 

"  I  am  hateful  in  my  own  sight  for  having  loved 
you,"  she  said. 

"Will  you  not  even  wish  me  well,  Tehea?"  he 
asked. 

"  No,"  she  cried,  "  I  hope  you  will  die! " 

He  turned  away. 

"  Siati!"  she  cried  after  him  in  agony. 

He  turned  back  to  her,  downcast  and  silent. 

"Remember,"  she  said  with  sweet  relenting, 
"that  wherever  thou  goest,  however  many  the 
years  that  may  divide  us,  however  wide  the  waters 
or  the  land,  I  shall  be  here  waiting  for  thee,  here 
in  this  house  of  our  happiness ;  and  if  I  die  before 
thou  comest  here  thou  wilt  find  my  grave." 

"  Tehea,"  he  said,  "  as  God  sees  me,  some  day  I 
shall  return ! " 

She  took  his  hands  and  looked  up  into  his  face 
with  such  poignant  longing  and  tenderness,  that 
Jack's  comrades,  already  uncomfortable  enough, 
were  quite  overborne  by  the  scene.  Tough  old 
Hatch  snuffled  audibly,  and  Brady  could  hardly 
speak. 

"  Come,  come,  lad,"  he  cried  huskily,  "  you 
mustn't  keep  us  longer !  " 

Jack  unclasped  the  girl's  hands  and  suffered  him 
self  to  be  led  away  by  his  comrades.  Stumbling 
and  falling  against  one  another  in  the  dark,  they 
IO2 


FORTY    YEARS   BETWEEN 

made  shift  to  find  the  uncertain  path,  Winterslea, 
in  the  lead,  coo-eeing  like  a  bushfellow  for  them 
to  follow.  Little  by  little  they  gained  the  sleeping 
village,  and  pressed  on  to  the  beach  beyond,  where 
their  boat  was  already  afloat  on  the  incoming  tide. 
They  took  their  places  without  a  word  and  pulled 
out  in  the  direction  of  the  ship.  In  the  pass,  rising 
and  falling  in  the  heavy  swell,  they  burned  a  blue 
light,  which  the  Dauntless  answered  with  another, 
and  ran  up  a  masthead  lantern  to  guide  them.  A 
few  minutes  later  they  clambered  up  the  ladder, 
the  boat  was  hoisted  in,  and  the  boatswain's  whistle 
was  rousing  the  watch  on  deck: 

"Mainsail  haul!" 

By  morning  the  island  had  sunk  behind  them, 
and  standing  on  the  dizzy  main-royal  yard  with 
one  arm  round  the  mast,  Jack  could  make  out 
nothing  but  a  little  cloud  on  the  horizon. 

At  sixty,  John  Garrard  was  a  post  captain,  a 
Knight  Commander  of  the  Bath,  and  within  a  year 
of  receiving  flag  rank  and  the  command  of  a  fleet. 
His  career  had  been  more  than  distinguished,  and 
he  had  won  his  way  to  the  front  as  much  by  his 
fine  personal  qualities  as  by  his  invariable  good 
judgment  and  high  professional  attainments.  He 
had  earned  the  character  of  a  man  who  could  be 
trusted  in  situations  involving  tact,  temper,  and 
diplomatic  skill;  and  no  captain  in  the  navy  was 
more  confidently  ordered  to  those  scenes  of  inter- 
103 


WILD   JUSTICE 


national  tension,  which,  in  spite  of  statesmen,  so 
often  arise  in  some  distant  place  to  menace  the 
peace  of  the  world. 

He  had  never  married,  and  when  rallied  on  the 
subject  was  wont  to  say  with  a  laugh  that  the  sea 
was  his  only  mistress.  No  one  had  ever  ventured 
to  question  him  much  further,  though  his  friends 
were  often  piqued,  especially  the  women,  as  to  an 
implied  romance  in  the  captain's  earlier  life.  It 
was  known  he  supported  two  old-maid  sisters,  the 
Misses  Hadow,  the  impoverished  daughters  of  his 
first  commander;  but  in  view  of  his  considerable 
private  fortune  this  drain  on  his  resources  seemed 
scarcely  the  reason  of  his  renunciation.  Nor  did 
it  seem  to  his  admirers  that  any  woman  could  have 
had  the  heart  to  refuse  him,  for  even  at  sixty  he 
was  a  noticeably  handsome  man,  and  was  endowed, 
besides,  with  more  than  the  advantage  of  good 
looks,  a  charm  of  manner,  a  distinction,  a  cap 
tivating  gallantry  that  made  him  everywhere  a 
favorite. 

He  was  in  command  of  the  Inflexible  battleship, 
one  of  the  Australian  squadron,  when  she  developed 
some  defects  in  her  hydraulic  turning  gear  and  was 
ordered  home  to  England  by  Admiral  Lord  George 
Howard  for  overhaul.  The  captain's  heart  beat  a 
little  faster  as  he  realized  his  course  would  take 
him  south  of  the  Societies.  He  spread  out  the 
chart  on  his  cabin  table  and  sighed  as  he  laid  his 
104 


FORTY    YEARS   BETWEEN 

finger  on  Borabora.  He  shut  his  eyes,  and  saw  the 
basaltic  cliffs,  the  white  and  foaming  reefs,  the 
green,  still  forests  of  that  unforgotten  island.  He 
was  a  boy  once  more,  with  flowers  in  his  hair, 
wandering  beneath  the  palms  with  Tehea.  How 
often  had  he  thought  of  her  during  all  these  years ; 
the  years  that  had  left  him  gray  and  old ;  the  years 
that  had  carried  him  unscathed  through  so  many 
dangers  in  every  quarter  of  the  world!  For  him 
she  was  still  in  her  adorable  girlhood,  untouched 
by  time,  a  radiant  princess  in  her  radiant  isle,  wait 
ing  by  the  shore  for  his  return.  It  shocked  him  to 
remember  she  was  not  far  short  of  sixty — a  fat 
old  woman,  perhaps,  married  to  some  strapping 
chief,  and,  more  than  likely,  with  grown  children 
of  her  own!  How  incredible  it  seemed! 

But  a  word,  and  he  might  land  and  see  her.  But 
a  word,  and  the  questions  of  forty  years  might 
yet  be  answered — answered,  yes,  to  shatter,  as  like 
as  not,  with  pitiless  realities  the  tender  figment  of 
a  dream.  No,  he  said,  he  dared  not  expose  himself 
to  a  possible  disillusion,  to  play  into  the  hands  of 
sardonic  nature,  ever  mocking  at  man.  No;  but 
he  would  carry  his  ship  close  inshore  and  watch 
from  the  bridge  the  unfolding  bays  and  tiny  settle 
ments  of  that  lost  paradise,  and  then,  dipping  his 
flag  to  his  vanished  youth,  he  would  sink  over  the, 
horizon,  his  memory  thrilled  and  his  sentiment  un 
impaired,  to  set  his  face  for  England. 
8  105 


WILD   J  VST  ICE 


Dawn  was  breaking  as  he  slowed  down  to  lee 
ward  of  the  island  and  watched  the  shadows  melt 
away.  It  was  Sunday,  a  day  of  heavenly  calm, 
fresh  yet  windless,  with  a  sea  so  smooth  that  the 
barrier  reefs  for  once  were  silent,  and  one  could 
hear,  far  across  the  hushed  and  shining  water,  the 
coo  of  pigeons  in  the  forest.  Under  bare  steerage 
way,  with  the  leadsman  droning  in  the  fore  chains, 
the  ship  hugged  the  shore  and  steamed  at  a  snail's 
pace  round  the  island.  On  the  lofty  bridge,  high 
above  the  wondering  faces  of  his  command,  the 
white-haired  captain,  impassive,  supreme,  and  soli 
tary,  gave  no  sign  of  those  inner  emotions  that 
were  devouring  him.  Along  the  shore  the  sight 
of  the  battleship  brought  out  here  and  there  a 
startled  figure  or  a  group;  a  couple  of  laughing 
girls,  astride  on  ponies,  raced  the  Inflexible  for  a 
mile,  and  then,  their  road  ending  in  a  precipice, 
threw  kisses  with  their  saucy  hands;  little  children 
ran  out  into  the  lagoon,  shouting  with  joy;  old 
men,  in  Sunday  parius  and  with  black  Bibles  under 
their  arms,  turned  their  solemn  eyes  to  seaward 
and  forgot  for  a  moment  the  road  to  church.  A 
white  man,  in  striped  pajamas,  was  surprised  at 
morning  coffee  on  the  veranda  of  his  little  house. 
He  darted  inside,  and  reappeared  with  a  magazine 
rifle  which  he  emptied  in  the  air,  and  followed  up 
his  courtesies  by  raising  and  lowering  a  Union 
Jack  the  size  of  a  handkerchief.  The  battleship 
1 06 


FORTY    YEARS   BETWEEN 

dipped  her  stately  white  ensign  in  acknowledgment, 
as  a  swan  might  salute  a  fly,  and  swept  on  with 
majesty. 

With  every  mile  the  bays  and  wooded  promon 
tories  grew  increasingly  familiar  as  Sir  John  was 
borne  toward  Lihua,  the  scene  of  his  boyish  folly. 
He  looked  ashore  in  wonder,  surprised  at  the  vivid 
ness  and  exactness  of  his  recollection.  He  might 
have  landed  anywhere  and  found  his  way  through 
those  tangled,  scented  paths  with  no  othe.r  guide 
but  memory.  There  was  Papaloloa  with  its  roar 
ing  falls ;  there,  the  ti'a  a  Peau  where  he  had  shot 
his  first  goat ;  yonder,  the  misty  heights  of  Tiarapu, 
where  Tehea  and  he  had  camped  a  night  in  the 
clouds  in  an  air  of  English  cold.  It  was  like  a 
home-coming  to  see  all  these  familiar  scenes  spread 
ing  out  before  him.  He  looked  at  his  hands,  his 
thin,  veined,  wrinkled  hands,  and  it  came  over  him 
with  a  sort  of  wonder  that  he  was  an  old  man. 

"  That  was  forty  years  ago,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  Forty  years  ago !  " 

And  yet,  by  God !  it  all  seemed  like  yesterday. 

As  Lihua  opened  out  and  he  perceived,  with  an 
inexpressible  pang,  the  thatched  houses  set  deep  in 
the  shade  of  palms  and  breadfruit  trees,  he  felt 
himself  in  the  throes  of  a  strange  and  painful  inde 
cision.  He  paced  up  and  down  the  bridge;  he  lit 
a  cigar  and  threw  it  away  again;  he  twice  ap 
proached  Captain  Stillwell  as  though  to  give  an 

I07, 


WILD   JUSTICE 


order,  and  then,  still  in  doubt,  turned  shamefacedly 
on  his  heel. 

"  By  the  deep  nine ! "  came  the  hoarse  murmur 
of  the  leadsman. 

It  lay  with  him  to  stop  the  ship  or  not ;  a  word, 
and  she  would  come  shivering  to  a  standstill;  a 
word,  and  the  boatswain  would  pipe  away  his  gig 
and  the  crew  would  be  running  to  their  places. 
His  heart  ached  with  the  desire  to  land,  but  some 
thing,  he  knew  not  what,  withheld  the  order  on 
his  lips.  Let  him  remain  silent,  and  the  opportunity 
would  pass  away  forever ;  it  was  passing  now  with 
every  turn  of  the  propeller.  Had  he  not  told  her 
he  would  return?  Had  he  not  whispered  it  that 
night  when  they  were  torn  apart  ?  Did  he  not  owe 
it  to  her  to  keep  the  promise  of  forty  years,  a 
promise  given  in  the  flush  of  youth  and  hope,  and 
sealed  with  scalding  tears? 

His  resolution  was  taken.     He  ordered  Captain 
Stillwell  to  stop  the  ship  and  lower  a  boat. 

"  I  am  going  to  treat  myself  to  a  run  ashore," 
he  said  by  way  of  explanation. 

The  vessel  slowly  stopped.  The  covers  were 
whipped  off  the  gig.  She  was  hoisted  out  and 
lowered,  the  crew  dropping  down  the  ladder  into 
their  places  at  the  peep-peep-peep  of  the  whistle. 

"  I  leave  the  ship,"  said  Sir  John,  not  to  convey 
a  fact  patently  obvious,  but  in  obedience  to  a  naval 
formula. 

1 08 


FORTY   YEARS   BETWEEN 

He  was  landed  at  a  little  cove  where  in  bygone 
days  he  had  often  whiled  away  an  hour  waiting 
in  charge  of  Hadow's  boat.  It  gave  him  a  singular 
sensation  to  feel  the  keel  grate  against  the  shingle, 
and  to  find  himself  once  more  setting  foot  in  Lihua. 
He  drew  a  deep  breath  as  he  looked  about  and 
noticed  how  unchanged  it  all  was.  There  were 
some  new  houses  in  new  places,  and  grass  on  the 
sites  of  others  that  were  endeared  to  him  in  recol 
lection;  but  it  was  Lihua,  after  all,  the  Lihua  of 
his  boyhood,  the  Lihua  of  his  dreams.  For  a  while 
he  strolled  about  at  random,  walking  with  the  phan 
toms  of  the  past,  hearing  their  laughter,  seeing  their 
faces,  recalling  a  thousand  things  he  had  forgotten. 

It  came  over  him  with  a  start  that  the  village 
was  empty.  Then  he  remembered  it  was  Sunday, 
and  they  were  all  in  church.  Thank  God,  there 
was  none  to  watch  him;  no  prying,  curious  eyes 
to  disturb  his  thoughts.  But  they  would  soon  be 
out  again,  and  it  behooved  him  to  make  the  best 
use  of  his  solitude  while  he  might.  He  struck  in 
land,  his  heart  beating  with  a  curious  expectancy; 
at  every  sound  he  held  his  breath,  and  he  would 
turn  quickly  and  look  back  with  a  haunting  sense 
that  Tehea  was  near  him;  that  perhaps  she  was 
gazing  at  him  through  the  trees.  He  approached 
his  old  home  through  overgrown  plantations.  It 
awed  him  to  part  the  branches  and  to  feel  himself 
drawing  nearer  at  every  step  to  the  only  house  he 
109 


WILD   JUSTICE 


had  ever  called  his  own.  As  he  heard  the  splashing 
waterfall  he  stopped,  not  daring  for  the  moment 
to  go  on.  When  at  last  he  did  so,  and  mounted 
the  little  hill,  he  found  no  house  at  all;  nothing 
but  ferns  and  weeds,  man-high.  He  moved  about 
here  and  there,  up  to  the  armpits  in  verdure,  in  a 
sort  of  consternation  at  discovering  it  gone. 

His  foot  struck  against  a  boulder. 

He  had  forgotten  there  were  any  rocks  on  the 
hill.  He  moved  along,  and  his  foot  struck  again. 
He  pressed  the  weeds  back  and  looked  down.  He 
saw  a  tomb  of  crumbling  cement,  green  with  age 
and  buried  out  of  sight  under  the  tangle. 

It  had  never  occurred  to  him  before  that  Tehea 
might  be  dead. 

He  held  back  the  undergrowth  again  and  peered 
into  the  depths.  Yes,  it  was  the  grave  of  a  chief, 
or  of  a  woman  of  rank,  one  of  those  artless  mounds 
of  cement  and  rock  that  the  natives,  with  poetic 
fancy,  used  to  call  falelauasl,  houses  of  sandal- 
wood;  oliolisanga,  or  the  place  where  birds  sing; 
or,  in  vulgar  speech,  simply  tuungamau,  or  tombs. 
These  words,  unspoken,  unthought  of  for  forty 
years,  lost,  overlaid,  and  forgotten  in  some  recess 
of  his  brain,  now  returned  to  him  with  tormenting 
recollection.  He  laid  both  hands  on  the  thick  stem 
of  a  shrub  and  tore  it  out  of  the  ground.  He  seized 
another  and  dragged  it  out  with  the  same  ferocity. 
It  was  intolerable  that  she  should  suffocate  under 

no 


FORTY    YEARS   BETWEEN 

all  this  warm,  wet  jungle;  he  would  give  her  air 
and  sunshine,  she  that  had  loved  them  both;  he 
would  uncover  the  poor  stones  that  marked  her  last 
resting  place;  he  would  lay  bare  the  earth  that 
wrapped  her  dead  beauty. 

He  worked  with  desperation  until  his  hands  were 
bleeding,  until  his  eyes  were  stung  and  blinded 
with  the  streaming  sweat.  Dizzy  with  the  heat, 
parched  with  thirst,  and  sick  with  the  steam  that 
rose  from  the  damp  ground,  he  was  forced  again 
and  again  to  desist  and  rest.  He  cut  his  waistcoat 
into  slips  and  bound  them  round  his  bloody  hands ; 
he  broke  the  blades  of  his  penknife  on  recalcitrant 
roots  that  defied  the  strength  of  his  arms;  he  la 
bored  with  fury  to  complete  the  task  he  had  set 
before  him.  Here  he  stood,  within  four  walls  of 
vegetation,  the  sky  above  him,  the  cracked  and 
rotted  tomb  below,  satisfied  at  last  by  the  accom 
plishment  of  his  duty.  The  gold  on  his  sleeves 
was  dirty  and  disordered;  one  of  his  shoulder- 
straps  dangled  loose  from  his  sodden  coat;  his 
trousers  were  splashed  with  earth.  But  for  the 
moment  the  post  captain  was  forgotten  in  the  man, 
as  he  mused  on  the  tragedy  of  human  life,  on  the 
mysteries  of  love  and  death  and  destiny,  on  his 
own  irrevocable  youth  now  so  far  behind  him,  when 
he  had  forfeited  his  honor  for  the  dead  woman  at 
his  feet.  He  called  her  aloud  by  name.  He  bent 
down  and  kissed  her  mossy  bed.  He  whispered, 
III 


WILD   JUSTICE 


with  a  strange  conviction  that  she  could  hear  him, 
that  he  had  kept  his  promise  to  return. 

Then,  rising  to  his  feet,  he  turned  toward  the 
sea  and  retraced  his  steps.  The  people  were  still 
in  church,  and  the  village  was  deserted  as  before. 
He  walked  swiftly  lest  they  might  come  flocking 
out  before  he  could  reach  his  boat,  to  torture  him 
with  recognition,  with  the  questions  they  would 
ask,  with  their  story  of  Tehea's  death.  Then  he 
laughed  at  his  own  fears,  remembering  his  white 
hair  and  the  intervening  generation.  Time  had 
passed  over  Borabora,  too.  The  world,  he  remem 
bered,  was  older  by  forty  years — older  and  sadder 
and  emptier. 

He  swung  himself  up  the  ladder,  mounted  the 
bridge,  and  put  the  vessel  on  her  course.  The  tele 
graph  rang,  the  engineers  repeated  back  the  signal, 
and  the  great  battleship,  vibrating  with  her  mighty 
engines,  resumed  once  more  her  ponderous  way. 


O'S    HEAD 

SILVER  TONGUE  loved  Rosalie,  and  Rosalie  loved 
Silver  Tongue,  and  ever  since  they  had  first  met 
at  the  Taufusi  Club  dance  their  friends  had  seen 
the  inevitable  finish  of  their  acquaintance.  They 
were  invited  everywhere  together,  and  the  affair 
had  progressed  from  the  first  or  furtive  stage  to 
the  secondary  or  solemn  Sunday  drive  about  the 
Eleele  Sa.  The  third,  that  of  carpenters  adding  a 
story  to  the  bakery  and  dressmakers  hard  at  work 
in  Miss  Potter's  little  establishment,  was  looming 
up  close  in  view. 

Never  was  a  match  in  Apia  that  gave  a  rosier 
promise  of  success.  Silver  Tongue,  so  called  by 
the  Samoans  on  account  of  his  beautiful  voice  (but 
who  in  ordinary  life  answered  to  the  homelier 
appellation  of  Oppenstedt),  had  been  making  a 
very  good  thing  out  of  the  Southern  Cross  Bakery, 
and  was  regarded  throughout  Apia  as  a  man  of 
responsibility  and  substance.  He  was  a  tall,  spare 
German  of  about  forty,  who,  like  the  most  of  us, 
had  followed  the  sea  before  fate  had  brought  him 
to  the  islands,  there  in  years  gone  by  to  marry  a 
Samoan  maid  and  settle  down.  The  little  Samoan 


WILD    JUSTICE 


had  died,  leaving  behind  her  nothing  but  a  memory 
in  Silver  Tongue's  heart,  a  tangled  grave  in  the 
foreign  cemetery,  and  a  host  of  relations  who  lived 
in  tumble-down  quarters  in  the  rear  of  the  bakery. 
In  one  way  and  another  these  hungry  mouths  must 
have  been  a  considerable  drain  on  Silver  Tongue's 
resources;  and  though  they  feebly  responded  to 
his  bounty — one  by  driving  a  natty  cart  and  deliv 
ering  hot  morning  rolls,  and  another  by  pilfering 
firewood  for  the  furnace — the  account  (if  one  had 
been  made)  was  far  from  even.  But  to  any  ob 
jection  to  this  Quixotic  generosity  Silver  Tongue 
had  a  reply  ever  ready  on  his  lips.  "  I  lofe  dem 
like  my  fader,"  he  would  say  in  his  deep,  fluty 
voice,  and  the  conversation  was  seldom  carried 
further.  When  it  was — by  some  one  ill  advised 
enough  to  do  so — Silver  Tongue  would  flare  up, 
and  recall  with  flashing  eyes  and  a  face  crimson 
with  indignation  the  ten-year  debt  of  gratitude  he 
owed  his  dead  wife's  ainga. 

Indeed,  if  Silver  Tongue  had  a  fault  it  was  a 
certain  moroseness  and  fierceness  of  temper,  a 
readiness  and  even  an  apparent  pleasure  in  taking 
offense,  that  made  him  somewhat  of  a  solitary  in 
our  midst  and  threw  him  more  than  ever  on  the 
companionship  of  his  own  Kanakas;  so  that  at 
night,  when  one  had  occasion  to  seek  him  out,  he 
was  usually  to  be  found  on  the  mats  of  his  native 
house,  smoking  his  pipe  or  playing  sweepy  with  his 
H4 


O'S   HEAD 

bulky  father-in-law,  Papalangi  Mativa.  I  doubt  if 
he  had  another  intimate  in  Apia  besides  myself,  and 
though  I  must  confess  we  often  disagreed,  and 
once  or  twice  approached  the  verge  of  estrange 
ment,  I  was  too  much  his  friend  and  too  mindful 
of  the  old  days  on  the  Ransom  to  let  such  trifles 
come  between  us. 

I  was,  besides,  Rosalie's  friend  as  well,  for  old 
Clyde,  her  father,  had  died  in  my  arms  at  No- 
nootch,  and  with  his  last  breath  had  consigned  her 
to  my  care.  This  obligation,  rendered  sacred  by 
an  association  that  extended  back  to  the  days  of 
Steinberg  and  Bully  Hayes,  when  in  the  Moroa 
and  the  Eugenie  we  had  slept  under  the  same  mats 
and  had  played  our  part  together  in  the  stirring- 
times  of  Stewart  and  the  great  Atuona  Plantation 
— this  obligation,  I  say,  I  met  easily  enough  so  long 
as  Rosalie  was  a  child  and  safe  in  the  convent  at 
Savalalo.  But  when  she  grew  to  womanhood  and 
went  to  live  with  her  relations  in  their  shanty  near 
the  Firm,  I  began  to  experience  some  anxiety  in 
regard  to  her.  Her  relations,  to  begin  with,  were 
not  at  all  the  kind  of  natives  I  liked.  They  had 
been  too  long  the  hangers-on  of  the  Firm,  and 
had  seen  too  much  of  a  low  class  of  whites  to  be 
the  proper  guardians  of  a  very  pretty  half-caste  of 
eighteen.  They  had  an  ugly  name,  besides — but  I 
won't  be  censorious — and  it  may  have  been  all 
beach  talk.  But  they  were  certainly  a  whining, 

"5 


begging  lot,  the  girls  bold  and  the  men  impudent 
and  saucy,  and  I  never  saw  Rosalie  in  their  midst 
but  it  made  me  heartsick  for  her  future. 

I  did  the  little  I  could,  and  let  it  be  pretty  well 
understood  about  the  beach  that  the  man  who 
played  fast  and  loose  with  her  would  have  to  reckon 
with  old  Captain  Branscombe.  And  then  I  got  the 
missionary  ladies  to  take  her  up,  and  as  I  never 
stinted  a  bit  of  money  for  her  dresses  and  what  not 
(as  though  Clyde's  daughter  wasn't  worthy  of  the 
best  in  the  land),  she  made  good  headway  in  what 
little  gayeties  took  place  in  the  town.  Of  course,  I 
went  about  to  keep  an  eye  on  her — that  is,  when 
they  asked  me  to  their  parties,  which  wasn't  al 
ways  ;  and  I  remember  once  making  very  short  work 
of  one  fellow,  a  labor  captain  from  the  Westward, 
who  seemed  bent  on  mischief  till  I  took  him  out  in 
the  starlight  and  showed  him  the  business  end  of 
my  gun.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  never  had  a  peaceful 
moment  till  he  up  anchor  and  cleared,  for  he  was 
a  good  deal  the  kind  of  man  I  was  at  thirty,  and 
he  hung  on  in  spite  of  me,  keeping  half  the  family 
in  his  pay  while  I  kept  the  other,  and  he  even 
landed  the  last  night  with  muffled  oars,  when,  in 
stead  of  finding  Rosalie  on  the  beach  to  fly  with 
him,  he  ran  into  me,  laying  for  him  under  an 
umbrella ! 

There  were  many  who  said  I  was  in  love  with 
the  girl  myself,  which,  as  like  as  not,  was  true; 


O'S   HEAD 

for  she  was  one  of  those  tall,  queenly  women,  with 
a  wonderful  grace  to  anything  she  did,  and  mag 
nificent  dark  eyes,  and  a  way  of  smiling, — brilliant, 
arch,  and  tender — that  made  even  an  old  stager  of 
sixty  remember  he  still  wore  a  heart  under  his 
jumper.  Yes,  I  had  a  pretty  soft  spot  for  Rosalie, 
though  I  had  sense  enough  to  know  that  God  had 
never  meant  her  for  an  old  sea  horse  like  myself. 
And  lacking  me — whom  the  weight  of  three-score 
years  had  put  out  of  the  ring  (not  but  what  I'm  a 
pretty  game  old  devil  yet) — I  could  see  nobody  in 
sight  I  preferred  half  so  much  as  Silver  Tongue. 

So  there  was  the  situation  till  the  war  of  Ninety- 
three  came  along  to  jumble  us  all  up  and  knock 
everything  to  spillikins.  Oppenstedt  in  love  with 
Rosalie;  Rosalie  in  love  with  Oppenstedt;  Bahn 
and  old  Taylor  working  on  the  second  story  of  the 
Southern  Cross  Bakery;  Miss  Potter  doing  double 
tides  at  the  trousseau,  and  I,  the  friend  of  both, 
with  a  six-hundred-dollar  piano  on  the  way  from 
Bremen  for  their  wedding  present.  A  fair  wind, 
port  in  sight,  and  (say  you)  everything  drawing 
nicely  alow  and  aloft.  So  it  was  till  that  wretched 
fight  at  Vaitele,  when  the  Vaimaunga  came  pour 
ing  in  at  dusk,  bearing  wounded,  chorusing  their 
songs,  and  tossing  in  the  air  above  them  the  heads 
of  their  dead  enemies.  It  made  me  feel  bad  to 
see  it  all,  for  to  me  these  people  were  children,  and 
it  seemed  horrible  they  should  kill  one  another; 
117 


and  it  made  me  sicker  still  to  watch  the  wounded 
carried  into  the  Mission  and  stretched  out  in  rows 
on  the  blood-stained  boards.  Though  not  a  drink 
ing  man,  I  braced  up  at  Peter's  bar  and  then  went 
on  to  pass  the  time  of  day  with  Oppenstedt. 

I  found  him,  as  usual,  on  the  mats  of  the  native 
house,  glumly  smoking  a  pipe  and  talking  politics 
with  Papalangi  Mativa.  His  lean,  dark,  handsome 
face  was  overcast,  his  eyes  uneasy,  and  had  I  not 
known  him  for  a  brave  man  I  should  have  thought 
that  he  was  frightened.  He  was  certainly  very 
curt  and  short  in  greeting  me,  and  I  had  a  dim 
perception  that  my  visit  was  unwelcome. 

"  This  is  a  black  business,  Silver  Tongue,"  I 
said;  though,  to  be  exact,  I  called  him  Leoalio, 
which  means  the  same  thing  in  native. 

"Plack!"  he  exclaimed.  "It's  horrible!  It's 
disgusting!  They  have  been  cutting  off  beople's 
heads !  " 

"  Fourteen  by  one  count,"  I  said ;  "  twenty-two 
by  another." 

"  Gabtain,"  said  he  with  a  look  of  extraordinary 
gravity,  "  dere's  worse  nor  that !  " 

"Worse?"  I  said. 

"  I  have  it  straight  from  Papalangi  Mativa  him 
self." 

"Have  what?"  I  asked. 

"  Excellency,"  said  Papalangi  Mativa,  "  perhaps 
it  is  not  high-chief-known  to  thee  that  I  and  mine 
118 


O>S  HEAD 

come  from  a  noble  Savai'i  stock,  and  that  the  son 
of  my  mother's  sister,  a  stripling  named  O,  num 
bered  himself  among  the  enemy  and  was  to-day 
killed  and  his  head  taken  on  the  field  of  Vaitele." 

"  Aue!"  I  said,  which  in  Kanaka  is  being  sym 
pathetic. 

"  Dat  is  not  all,"  said  Silver  Tongue.  "  Listen, 
gabtain ! " 

"  I'm  listening,"  I  said. 

"  The  warrior  that  killed  O  was  To'oto'o,  the 
matai"  continued  Papalangi  Mativa  with  the  air 
of  one  announcing  the  end  of  the  world. 

"  To'oto'o ! "  I  said  in  all  innocence. 

"  To'oto'o,"  cried  Silver  Tongue ;  "  why,  Rosa 
lie's  uncle,  the  faipule,  in  whose  house  this  very 
minute  the  head  of  my  murdered  relation  lies !  " 

"  Ton  my  soul,"  I  exclaimed,  "  this  is  really 
unfortunate !  " 

"  Unfordunate !  "  cried  Silver  Tongue ;  "  is  it 
with  such  a  word  you  describe  two  hearts  broken, 
two  lives  plasted,  the  fairest  prospect  with  suddenly 
crash  the  curdain  led  down !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,"  I 
said.  "  It's  disagreeable,  I  admit,  but  I  can't  see 
what  difference  it  can  make  to  you  and  Rosalie." 

"An  Oppenstedt,"  said  Silver  Tongue,  "could 

never  indermarry  with  the  family  of  a  murderer, 

and  least  of  all  with  a  family  that  had  the  head 

of  my  dead  wife's  relation  cut  off  and  carried  with 

119 


WILD   JUSTICE 


gapers  and  cries  of  joy  down  the  main  street  of 
Apia  and  past  my  place  of  peeziness ! " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  it's  all  off  with  you  and 
Rosalie  ?  "  I  demanded. 

Silver  Tongue  nodded  grimly.    "  All  off,"  he  said. 

"  And  you're  going  to  break  my  girl's  heart," 
I  cried  with  what  I  think,  under  the  circumstances, 
was  a  very  justifiable  indignation,  "  because  the  son 
of  the  aunt  of  your  father-in-law  has  had  his  head 
cut  off  by  poor  Rosalie's  adopted  uncle?" 

"  That's  right,"  said  Silver  Tongue. 

"Old  friend,"  I  said,  "let  me  go  before  I  say 
something  I  might  regret."  I  got  up  without  wait 
ing  for  any  answer  and  strode  into  the  street,  too 
consumed  with  anger  to  utter  another  word.  I 
walked  along  the  beach,  stopping  here  and  there 
to  discuss  the  news  of  the  battle  with  those  of  my 
friends  I  happened  to  meet,  until  at  last  I  passed 
Savalalo  and  drew  near  To'oto'o's  house  at  Songi. 
Rosalie  was  standing  at  the  gate,  and  when  she  saw 
me  she  ran  up,  threw  her  arms  round  my  neck  and 
kissed  me.  I  had  never  known  her  so  excited  or 
so  gay,  and  even  in  the  dark  I  could  see  that  her 
beautiful  eyes  were  shining. 

"  Captain,"  she  said,  giving  me  a  hug,  "  nobody 
will  ever  say  a  word  against  To'oto'o  again,  or  try 
to  belittle  him  as  they  used  to,  just  because  he's 
poor  and  lives  on  Seu's  land,  for  to-day  he  fought 
like  a  lion  and  covered  himself  with  glory ! " 
120 


O'S   HEAD 

"  Took  a  head,  or  something  ?  "  I  said. 

"  A  hero !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  They  are  compos 
ing  a  song  in  his  honor;  all  Songi  is  ringing  with 
his  name;  and  he  was  complimented  for  his  valor 
by  the  President  and  Chief  Justice!  You  must 
come  in  and  see  it  at  once." 

"See  what?"  I  asked. 

"The  head!"  she  cried. 

I  haven't  the  heart  to  write  how  the  news  was 
broken  to  Rosalie,  who  steadfastly  refused  to  be 
lieve  the  truth  until  she  had  heard  it  from  Silver 
Tongue  himself.  I  had  hoped  he  might  relent,  with 
a  night  to  think  it  over  and  a  letter  from  myself  in 
the  morning  pointing  out  his  injustice  and  folly. 
Perhaps,  now  I  remember  it,  that  letter  was  a 
mistake.  It  was  a  trifle  warm  in  spots,  and  I  dare 
say  I  let  a  natural  irritation  get  the  better  of  me. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  Oppenstedt  was  deaf  to  reason 
and  protested  with  undiminished  vehemence  that 
he  refused  to  ally  himself  with  the  family  of  a 
murderer.  Indeed,  so  ridiculous  did  he  get  on  the 
subject  that  he  sent  to  Sydney  for  a  tombstone 
(I  daren't  write  headstone,  though  it  was  one, 
about  the  size  of  a  silk  hat)  and  put  it  behind  the 
bakery  above  the  spot  where  O's  head  was  buried 
in  a  gin  case. 

When  a  girl  has  gone  a  certain  length  she  seems 
less  able  than  a  man  to  withstand  a  disappointment 
9  121 


WILD   JUSTICE 


in  love.  Silver  Tongue  simply  clenched  his  teeth, 
withdrew  from  the  Concordia  Club  and  the  Wednes 
day  night  bowls  at  Conrad's,  and  went  on  baking 
bread  and  rolls  much  as  usual.  Poor  Rosalie 
drooped  like  a  flower  in  the  sun,  and  though  she 
had  pride  enough  to  act  a  part  and  show  a  becom 
ing  spirit  before  the  world,  she  had  received  a 
wound  that  I  sometimes  feared  might  prove  mortal. 
I  sent  her  to  Tonga  Taboo  for  a  month,  and  she 
came  back  no  better,  her  eyes  black  ringed  and  her 
cheeks  hollow,  and  her  smile  (always  to  me  the 
most  beautiful  smile  in  the  world),  with  a  curious, 
haunting  pathos  that  I  remember  so  well  in  the 
old  slaving  days  among  the  Line  women  in  their 
chains. 

You  must  not  think  I  tamely  acquiesced  in  this 
state  of  affairs,  or  allowed  my  old  friend  an  undis 
turbed  possession  of  the  Kanaka  quarters  behind 
the  bakery.  Late  or  early  I  gave  him  no  peace, 
and  plagued  him,  I  dare  say,  to  the  very  verge  of 
distraction.  But  I  might  as  well  have  tried  to  ar 
gue  with  his  bread  or  soften  his  brick  furnace  for 
any  impression  I  succeeded  in  making  upon  him. 
In  his  crazy  obstinacy  he  would  listen  to  nothing, 
and  I  would  find  myself,  after  one  of  these  inter 
views,  in  a  state  of  indescribable  exasperation  and 
determined  never  to  go  near  him  again. 

One  night,  when  I  was  up  at  Malifa  calling  on  a 
jiear  good  friend  of  mine,  Sasa  French,  a  charming 
122 


O'S  HEAD 

and  most  accomplished  young  native  lady,  our  talk 
happened  to  run  for  the  thousandth  time  on  this 
vexing  matter  of  Rosalie  and  Silver  Tongue.  All 
of  a  sudden  an  idea  came  into  Sasa's  pretty  head — 
one  of  those  brilliant,  clever,  feminine  ideas — that 
seemed  to  us,  in  that  triumphant  moment,  to  be  the 
means  of  untangling  all  our  difficulties.  Though 
it  was  eight  o'clock,  and  there  was  the  risk  of 
gossip  in  my  driving  Sasa  French  alone  about  the 
Municipality  at  such  an  hour,  I  put  her  into  my 
buggy,  whipped  up  my  horse,  and  set  a  straight 
course  for  Seumanutafa,  the  high  chief  of  Apia. 
He  laughed  a  good  deal,  demurred  somewhat,  and 
was  finally  persuaded  to  squeeze  his  Herculean  di 
mensions  into  the  trap  and  start  off  with  us  for 
To'oto'o's  house  at  Songi.  Here,  after  the  usual 
ceremonious  exchanges,  the  womenfolk  and  chil 
dren  melted  away  and  left  us  alone  with  To'oto'o, 
whose  ferretty  eyes  betrayed  no  small  degree  of 
curiosity  and  alarm.  This  man  was  one  of  the 
few  Samoans  I  never  liked.  He  was  a  gaunt,  dan 
gerous,  crafty-looking  customer  of  about  fifty,  and 
I  never  had  had  any  use  for  him  since  he  had 
stolen  my  tethering  rope  one  evening  when  I  was 
calling  on  the  king.  Well,  to  get  on  with  my 
story,  we  talked  about  the  weather,  and  the  war, 
and  what  an  ass  the  Ta'ita'ifono  was,  and  finally 
got  round  to  the  matter  in  hand. 

Seumanutafa  began  mild,  for  he  was  a  past  mas- 
123 


WILD   JUSTICE 


ter  in  the  art  of  graduation,  and  thought  to  go 
slow  at  first.  To'oto'o  was  informed  that  he  had 
to  make  ifonga  for  the  death  of  O  and  be  carried 
on  the  morrow  by  the  taulelea  to  Papalangi  Mati- 
va's  house  behind  the  bakery.  This  ifonga,  as  they 
call  it,  is  a  sort  of  public  humiliation  to  expiate  a 
fault,  and  nobody's  very  keen  about  doing  it  unless 
they  have  to — for  it  involves  rubbing  dirt  in  your 
hair,  and  singing  small,  and  suffering  a  sort  of 
social  eclipse  for  a  week  or  two  afterwards.  To'- 
oto'o's  face  grew  several  shades  darker  at  the  sug 
gestion,  and  though  I  promised  him  twenty  dollars 
out  of  hand  for  himself  and  two  kegs  of  beef  and 
three  tins  of  biscuit  by  way  of  peace  offering  to 
Papalangi  Mativa,  he  hemmed  and  hawed  and 
finally  said  no. 

Then  Sasa  bore  a  hand  and  spoke  beautifully 
of  Rosalie,  and  how  this  unfortunate  business  of 
O's  head  had  divided  her  from  Silver  Tongue. 

"  If  thou  makest  peace  with  his  ainga,"  said  Sasa, 
"  lo,  what  is  there  left  for  the  white  man  to  say  ? 
His  bond  is  that  of  marriage ;  theirs,  that  of  blood ; 
and  if  the  last  be  satisfied,  what  room  is  there  for 
the  former  to  complain  ?  " 

"  But  to  be  carried  like  a  pig  through  the  public 
street !  "  cried  To'oto'o.  "  Preferable  far  would  be 
death  itself  than  that  the  son  of  chiefs  should  be 
thus  degraded,  and  his  name  become  a  mock 
throughout  the  Tuamasanga !  " 
124 


O>S  HEAD 

"  O  To'oto'o,"  said  Seumanutafa,  "  we  know  thee 
for  a  brave  man,  and  that  thou  tookst  this  head  in 
open  battle,  even  as  David  did  that  of  Goliath, 
and  I  swear  thee  thy  honor  shall  remain  undimmed 
for  all  the  seeming  appearance  of  humiliation.  Be 
sides,  is  it  not  written  in  the  Holy  Book  that  thou 
shouldst  turn  the  other  cheek  to  the  smiter?  Is  it 
not  said  also  that  blessed  is  the  peacemaker,  and 
that  the  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth  ?  " 

"  Weighty  is  my  grief  and  pain,"  said  To'oto'o, 
"but  what  your  Highness  asks  of  me  is  impossi 
ble!" 

"  O  To'oto'o,"  said  Seumanutafa,  "  this  house  is 
mine ;  this  land  is  mine ;  the  plantation  i  uta  is  mine 
also.  Thou  livest  under  the  shadow  of  my  power, 
and  it  is  meet  thou  shouldst  pay  in  service  for  the 
bounty  thou  hast  so  long  enjoyed.  First  I  spoke 
to  thee  as  one  brave  man  to  another;  then  as  a 
Christian  to  a  fellow-Christian;  now  I  command 
thee  as  thy  chief,  and  verily  thou  shalt  obey ! " 

"  And  I  will  add  to  that  twenty,  making  it  twen 
ty-five,"  I  said. 

"  And  Rosalie  shall  marry  her  Silver  Tongue 
after  all,"  said  Sasa. 

To'oto'o  argued  a  little  more  for  form's  sake, 
and  blustered  somewhat  about  the  Chief  Justice, 
and  how  he  would  fight  the  matter  out  in  the 
courts;  but  Seumanutafa's  tone  grew  peremptory, 
and  the  old  fellow  finally  gave  way  all  round. 
125 


WILD   JUSTICE 


Then  'ava  was  brought  in,  the  arrangements  made 
for  the  morrow,  and  we  at  length  said  tofa  on  the 
threshold,  well  pleased  with  our  night's  work. 

I  wish  you  could  have  seen  us  next  day  going 
through  the  town  in  a  little  procession,  headed  by 
To'oto'o  lashed  to  a  pole  and  borne  by  a  crowd 
of  retainers.  There  was  a  flavor  of  the  burial  of 
Sir  John  Moore  about  the  whole  business — espe 
cially  the  hush — and  not  a  funeral  note  being  heard ; 
we  marching  with  measured  tread,  the  municipal 
police  bringing  up  the  rear,  and  Seumanutafa  in 
the  center,  nearly  seven  feet  high,  and  bearing  a 
white  umbrella  above  his  stately  head. 

Silver  Tongue  was  standing  in  the  front  of  his 
shop  having  an  altercation  with  the  Chief  Justice 
about  a  ham  (for  he  did  a  little  in  groceries  as 
well  as  baked)  as  we  hove  in  sight  and  began  to 
file  down  the  lane  to  Papalangi  Mativa's  quarters 
behind  the  Southern  Cross  Bakery.  I  suppose 
Silver  Tongue  thought  our  man  was  hurt,  or  some 
thing,  for  he  came  running  after  us  with  a  bottle 
of  square-face  and  a  packet  of  first  aid  to  the 
wounded,  elbowing  his  way  excitedly  through  the 
crowd  to  where  we  had  deposited  To'oto'o  at  the 
feet  of  Papalangi  Mativa.  He  was  the  most  aston 
ished  baker  in  the  South  Seas  as  he  saw  who  lay 
there  in  the  jumble  of  beef  and  biscuit,  and  for  a 
moment  was  too  stupefied  to  let  out  a  word. 
126 


O'S   HEAD 

I  don't  mean  to  go  into  the  speech-making  part 
of  the  performance,  for  what  between  Seumanutafa 
and  Papalangi  Mativa,  and  the  talking-man  Sasa 
had  lent  me  for  the  occasion,  and  a  divinity  student 
who  happened  along,  and  somebody  who  said  he 
was  Fale  Upolu  and  spoke  for  the  entire  Group, 
and  an  aged  faipule  from  the  Union  Islands  who 
seemed  to  have  some  kind  of  a  grievance  about  his 
father's  head,  and  the  Chief  Justice  who  had  to 
butt  in  with  the  capitation  tax — we  were  kept  there 
a  matter  of  three  hours  or  more,  until  at  last  the 
principals  officially  made  it  up,  To'oto'o  was  for 
given,  and  everything  ended  happily. 

"  Now,  Silver  Tongue,"  I  said  as  the  meeting 
dispersed,  "  we'll  consider  that  head  affair  canceled, 
and  if  you'll  come  over  to  my  house  to-night  I 
dare  say  you'll  find  Rosalie  sitting  on  the  front 
veranda !  " 

"  And  do  you  for  a  moment  think,"  he  said  with 
a  strange,  writhen  smile,  "  dat  all  dis  talk  and 
domfoolery  will  a  gruel  murder  undo,  and  the 
young  man  cut  off  in  his  brime  restore?  Weel 
those  lips,  so  gold  in  death,  stir,  think  you,  in  the 
box  where  we  laid  him  ?  Will  my  dead  wife's  fam 
ily  be  less  bereaved  because  of  two  kegs  of  peef 
and  three  tins  of  biscuit,  or  Rosalie's  family  less 
disgraced  because  her  uncle  was  triced  through  the 
streets  like  a  big?  No,  Captain  Branscombe,  I'm 
only  a  poor  paker,  but  I'd  count  myself  a  traidor 
127 


WILD   JUSTICE 


to  my  family  were  I  to  dake  a  murderess  for  my 
pride!" 

"  Rosalie  isn't  a  murderess,"  I  said. 

"  I  meant  niece  of  a  murderer/'  he  returned. 

I  was  too  speechless  with  indignation  to  utter 
another  word.  In  the  course  of  sixty  years  on  this 
planet  I've  seen  many  kinds  of  men,  and  I've 
learned  to  detect  in  some  a  certain  look  about  the 
eyes — a  curious  light  and  a  far-away  dreaminess  of 
expression — that  seems  always  the  sign  or  mark  of 
an  unflinching  obstinacy.  I  remember  that  self 
same  look  on  Brand's  face  as  we  lay  all  flattened 
on  the  water  tanks  of  the  Moroa,  and  he  blew  the 
main  deck  off  the  ship  together  with  three  hundred 
human  beings;  and  I  guess  the  Christian  martyrs 
had  it,  too,  when  lions  tore  them  to  pieces  and  bulls 
kited  them  on  their  horns  in  the  Colossium.  Any 
way,  it  was  as  plain  as  daylight  that  I  had  lost  my 
time  and  money  in  bothering  about  Oppenstedt, 
and  that  I  might  as  well  give  him  up  as  the  most 
incorrigible,  stiff-necked,  self-opinionated,  blunder- 
headed  ass  and  lunatic  this  side  of  Muggin. 

I  gave  him  a  wide  berth  after  this,  and  took  the 
other  side  of  the  street  when  I  saw  him  coming; 
while  he,  for  his  part,  would  have  cheerfully  run 
a  mile  for  the  chance  of  avoiding  me.  I  had  cares 
of  my  own,  too,  about  this  time,  what  with  the 
loss  of  the  Daisy  Walker,  and  my  libel  suit  with 
Grevsmuhl,  and  other  things  to  think  about  than 
128 


(yS  HEAD 

that  of  bringing  twin  souls  together.  So  the  days 
drifted  on  and  months  came  and  went,  and  it 
seemed  all  over  for  good  between  Rosalie  and 
Silver  Tongue.  Then  that  labor  captain  turned 
up  again,  him  I  had  had  trouble  with  before, 
a  black-eyed,  fierce,  handsome  little  fellow,  who 
was  hotter  than  ever  after  my  girl.  Rosalie  was 
just  in  the  humor  to  do  something  awful,  for  she 
was  desperately  unhappy,  with  spells  of  wild  gayety 
between,  and  a  recklessness  about  herself  that 
frightened  me  more  than  I  can  tell.  She  laughed 
in  my  face  when  I  warned  her  about  the  labor 
captain,  and  told  me  straight  out  she  was  only  a 
half-caste  and  it  didn't  matter  what  became  of  her. 
And  from  the  way  she  carried  on  and  got  herself 
talked  about  from  one  end  of  the  beach  to  the  other, 
it  began  to  look  as  though  she  meant  what  she 
said.  Altogether  I  felt  pretty  blue  about  her,  and 
savage  enough  against  Silver  Tongue  to  have — 
Well,  what  on  earth  could  I  do?  What  could  any 
body  do?  Why  had  God  ever  made  such  a  silly 
ass  of  a  baker? 

One  day  I  got  a  note  from  Sasa  French  that 
took  me  up  to  Malifa  at  a  tearing  run.  Scanlon, 
the  half-caste  policeman,  was  there,  and  when  I 
had  listened  to  his  story  I  threw  my  hat  in  the  air 
and  shouted  like  a  boy,  and  Sasa  and  I  waltzed 
up  and  down  the  veranda  to  the  petrifaction  of  two 
missionary  ladies  who  happened  to  be  passing  in 
129 


WILD   JUSTICE 


tow  of  some  square-toes  from  the  Home  Society. 
Sasa  and  I  plumped  into  a  buggy,  and  with  Scan- 
Ion  on  horseback  pounding  behind  us  we  made  all 
sail  for  Seumanutafa's.  Bidding  him  follow,  we 
then  raced  off  to  Mulinu'u,  where,  sure  enough, 
we  found  a  young  man  named  Tautala  in  one  of 
the  houses,  who  brought  out  the  music  box  and 
very  soon  satisfied  me  as  to  the  truth  of  what 
Scanlon  had  said.  Then  at  a  slower  pace,  so  that 
Tautala  might  keep  up  with  us,  we  walked  to 
To'oto'o's  house  and  taxed  him  with  the  whole 
business ! 

At  first  he  made  some  show  of  denying  it,  but 
what  could  he  say  with  Scanlon  and  Tautala  in  risen 
witness  against  him?  He  tried  to  refuse  to  come 
with  us  (which  would  have  spoiled  everything), 
until  Scanlon  took  a  hand  in  the  fray  and  let  his 
imagination  run  riot  about  the  law,  which,  as  he 
was  the  official  representative  of  it  and  wore  a 
pewter  star  on  his  breast,  soon  settled  To'oto'o's 
half-hearted  objections.  If  anything  else  were 
wanted,  it  was  the  arrival  at  this  juncture  of  Seu- 
manutafa  at  the  head  of  a  dozen  retainers,  who 
added  the  finishing  stroke  to  the  little  resistance 
To'oto'o  had  left.  Then  we  all  started  off  for  the 
Southern  Cross  Bakery,  and,  as  we  walked  slowly 
and  naturally,  attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention; 
and  as  we  told  every  one  we  met  where  we  were 
going  to,  and  why,  we  grew  and  grew  until,  as 
130 


O'S   HEAD 

I  looked  down  the  procession,  I  couldn't  see  the 
end  of  it.  The  Chief  Justice  was  sucked  in.  Like 
wise  the  President.  Marquardt,  the  chief  of  police, 
joined  us;  Haggard,  the  land  commissioner;  some 
Mormon  missionaries;  two  lay  brothers  from  the 
school;  a  lot  of  passengers  from  the  mail  boat, 
with  handkerchiefs  stuck  into  their  sweaty  collars; 
Captain  Hufnagel  on  horseback,  with  a  small  army 
of  Guadalcanaar  laborers;  half  the  synod  of  the 
Wesleyan  church  in  white  lavalavas  and  hymn- 
books;  a  picnic  party  that  had  just  returned  (not 
wholly  sober)  from  the  Papase'ea;  blue-jackets 
from  the  Sperber\  blue- jackets  from  the  Waller vo; 
three  survivors  of  the  British  bark  Windsor  Castle, 
burned  at  sea;  a  German  scientist  in  Jaeger  cos 
tume,  with  blue  spectacles  and  a  butterfly  net;  six 
whole  boatloads  of  an  aumoenga  party  from  Ma- 
nu'a;  a  lot  of  political  prisoners  on  parole;  two 
lepers,  and  Charley  Taylor! 

It  was  well  we  had  brought  Marquardt  with  us, 
for  he  and  his  police  caught  the  humor  of  the 
thing,  and  on  reaching  the  bakery  formed  us  up 
in  a  great  hollow  square  with  one  side  blank  for 
Silver  Tongue,  who  stood  and  gazed  at  us  trans 
fixed  from  the  shade  of  his  veranda.  Then  Seu- 
manutafa,  Sasa,  Scanlon,  Tautala,  To'oto'o,  and  I 
broke  ranks  and  marched  up  to  him. 

"  Old  man,"  I  said,  "  if  you  were  to  think  a  year 
you'd  never  guess  what  brought  us  here  to-day ! " 


• 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"  It's  O's  head  again,"  he  said,  grinding  his 
teeth  and  casting  a  vitriolic  glance  at  To'oto'o, 
"and  if  there  was  any  law  or  order  in  this  God 
forsaken  land  " — he  looked  daggers  at  the  Chief 
Justice  as  he  said  this — "that  fellar  would  have 
got  short  jift  for  murdering  my  fader-in-law's 
aunt's  son ! " 

"  He  didn't  murder  him,"  I  said. 

Silver  Tongue's  jaw  fell.  He  looked  at  us  quite 
overcome.  For  a  minute  he  couldn't  say  a  word. 

"  Oh,  but  he  deed !  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  It  was  Tautala  that  killed  him,"  I  said,  indi 
cating  the  young  man  we  had  brought  from  Muli- 
nu'u,  "  and  it  turns  out  he  sold  your  relation's  head 
to  To'oto'o  for  seven  dollars  and  a  music  box." 
At  this,  smiling  from  ear  to  ear,  Tautala  held  up 
the  music  box  to  public  view,  and  would  have  set 
it  going  had  not  something  fortunately  caught  in 
the  works. 

"It's  a  lie!"  gasped  Silver  Tongue.  "It's  a 
lie!" 

"  Scanlon  himself  was  at  the  battle,"  I  went  on, 
"  and  he  saw  the  whole  thing  and  was  a  witness 
to  Tautala  getting  the  seven  dollars,  and  he  made 
To'oto'o  pony  up  four  dollars  more  as  the  price 
of  his  own  secrecy." 

"Four  dollars,"  ejaculated  Scanlon.  "That's 
right,  Captain  Branscombe.  Four  dollars !  " 

"  So,  if  you  are  angry  with  anybody,"  I  said, 
132 


O'S   HEAD 

"  you  ought  to  be  angry  with  Tautala.  All  To'- 
oto'o  did  was  to  buy  a  little  cheap  notoriety  for 
eleven  dollars  and  a  music  box." 

I  never  saw  a  man  so  stung  in  all  my  life  as 
Oppenstedt.  The  eyes  seemed  to  start  from  his 
head,  and  he  glared  at  To'oto'o  as  though  he  could 
have  strangled  him.  Tautala  was  quite  forgotten 
in  the  intensity  of  his  indignation  toward  Rosalie's 
uncle.  You  see,  he  had  been  hating  To'oto'o  fero 
ciously  for  six  months,  and  couldn't  switch  off  at 
a  moment's  notice  on  an  absolute  stranger  like 
Tautala.  Besides,  his  hatred  for  To'oto'o  had  be 
come  a  kind  of  monomania  with  him,  and  now  here 
I  was  telling  him  what  a  fool  he  had  made  of  him 
self,  and  proving  it  with  two  witnesses  and  a  music 
box.  No  wonder  that  he  was  staggered. 

"  Now,  old  fellow,"  I  said,  "  we'll  call  bygones 
bygones,  and  maybe  you'll  let  us  see  a  little  more 
of  you  than  we've  been  doing  lately." 

"  You  mean  Rosalie,  of  gourse,"  he  said,  snap 
ping  the  words  like  a  mad  dog. 

"Yes,  Rosalie,"  I  said. 

"  Captain  Branscombe,"  he  said,  his  face  con 
vulsed  with  passion,  "  that  gossumate  liar  and  hybo- 
crite  has  made  such  a  thing  impossible.  Far  rader 
would  I  lay  me  in  the  grave — far  rader  would  I 
have  wild  horses  on  me  trample — than  that  I  should 
indermarry  with  a  family  and  bossibly  betaint  my 
innocent  kinder  with  the  plood  of  so  shogging  and 

133 


WILD   JUSTICE 


unprincibled  a  liar.  A  man  so  lost  to  shame,  so 
beplunged  in  cowardice  and  deceit  that  he  couldn't 
his  own  heads  cut  off,  but  must  buy  dem  of  others, 
and  faunt  himself  a  hero  while,  honest  worth  bassed 
unnoticed  and  bushed  aside." 

"  It  was  honest  worth  that  chopped  off  the  head 
of  your  father-in-law's  aunt's  son !  "  I  said. 

"  Captain,"  he  returned,  "  there  are  oggasions 
when  in  condrast  to  a  liar — to  a  golossal  liar — to 
one  who  has  made  a  peeziness  of  systematic  decep 
tion — a  murderer  is  a  shentlemans !  " 

"  Oh,  you  villain  baker ! "  cried  Sasa,  joining  in. 
"  You  make  tongafiti.  You  never  want  marry  the 
girl  at  all.  All  the  time  you  say  something  differ 
ent.  Oh,  you  bad  mans,  you  break  girls'  hearts — 
and  serve  you  right  somebody  cut  your  head  off !  " 

"  Wish  they  would,"  I  said,  out  of  all  patience 
with  the  fellow.  "  First  he  can't  marry  Rosalie 
because  her  uncle's  a  murderer.  Now  he  can't 
marry  her  because  her  uncle's  a  liar.  Disprove 
that,  and  he'd  dig  up  some  fresh  objection !  " 

"  I  lofe  her !  I  lofe  her ! "  protested  Silver 
Tongue. 

"  Come,  come,"  I  said,  "  you  aren't  marrying  the 
girl's  adopted  uncle." 

"A  traidor  to  my  family?  No,  gaptain,  dat  is 
what  I  can  never  be,"  said  Silver  Tongue. 

"  Traitor — nothing !  "  I  said. 

"Oh,  the  silly  baker!"  said  Sasa. 

134 


O'S  HEAD 

"  He  speaks  like  a  delirious  person,"  said  Seu- 
manutafa. 

"  Now  about  that  ham,"  said  the  Chief  Justice, 
belligerently  coming  forward  and  speaking  in  rich 
Swedish  accents,  "  when  I  send  my  servant  for  a 
ham,  Mr.  Oppenstedt,  I  want  a  good  ham — not 
a  great,  coarse,  fat,  stinking  lump  of  dog  meat " 

"  Let's  go,"  I  said  to  Sasa ;  "  Captain  Morse  is 
holding  back  the  Alameda  for  a  talk,  and  I  know 
there's  an  iced  bucket  of  something  in  the  corner 
of  his  cabin." 

"  Wish  the  dear  old  captain  would  land  and 
punch  his  head  off ! "  said  Sasa  vindictively. 

"Whose  head?"  I  asked. 

"  Silver  Tongue's,"  she  returned. 

Sasa  had  always  plagued  me  to  get  up  a  moon 
light  sailing  party  on  the  Nukanono,  a  little  fifteen- 
ton  schooner  of  mine  that  plied  about  the  Group. 
From  one  reason  and  another  the  thing  had  never 
come  off,  though  we  had  talked  and  arranged  it 
all  time  and  time  again.  Now  that  I  had  remasted 
her  and  overhauled  her  copper  and  painted  her  in 
side  and  out,  the  subject  had  bobbed  up  again ;  and 
as  I  couldn't  make  any  objection,  and  as  the  moon 
for  the  first  time  in  seven  years  had  happened  to 
be  full  at  the  same  moment  when  the  vessel  hap 
pened  to  be  free,  Sasa  informed  me  (in  the  auto 
cratic  manner  of  lovely  woman  dealing  with  an  old 

135 


WILD   JUSTICE 


sea  horse)  that  the  invitations  were  out,  the  music 
engaged,  and  that  my  part  was  to  plank  down  fifty 
dollars,  keep  my  mouth  shut,  and  do  what  I  was 
told. 

I  perceived  from  the  beginning  that  there  was 
something  queer  about  the  trip,  for  Sasa,  usually 
so  communicative,  could  scarcely  be  induced  to 
speak  of  it  at  all;  and  then  when  she  did  it  was 
with  such  a  parade  of  mystery  and  reserve  that 
I  felt  myself  completely  baffled.  However,  like 
the  jossers  in  the  poem,  it  wasn't  for  me  to  reason 
why,  and  so  I  obediently  ran  about  the  beach,  did 
what  I  was  bidden,  and  discreetly  asked  no  ques 
tions.  I  confess,  though,  that  on  the  day  itself 
my  curiosity  began  to  reach  the  breaking  point, 
when  I  was  told,  with  gentle  impressiveness,  that 
I  was  to  remain  in  my  house  till  the  minute  of 
nine  forty-five,  pull  off  quietly  to  the  Nukanono, 
board  her  by  the  fore  chains,  and  crouch  there  in 
the  bow  till  I  was  told  to  get  up! 

It  was  a  glorious  moonlight  night  as  I  got  into 
Joe's  boat  and  saw  the  Nukanono  across  the  bay, 
her  loosened  sails  flapping  in  the  first  faint  breath 
of  the  land  breeze,  and  her  booms  sparkling  from 
end  to  end  with  Chinese  lanterns.  The  water  was 
like  black  glass,  the  outer  reefs  were  silent,  and  the 
downpouring  air  from  the  mountains  was  fragrant 
with  moso'oi,  and  so  warm  and  scented  against  the 
cheek  that  I  doubt  not  but  what  you  could  have 

136 


O'S   HEAD 

smelled  Upolu  ninety  miles  to  leeward.  As  we 
drew  nearer,  the  sound  of  girls'  laughter,  the  tun 
ing  of  musical  instruments,  the  hum  and  talk  and 
gayety  of  a  large  company,  floated  over  to  us  from 
the  schooner's  deck,  wonderfully  mellowed  by  the 
intervening  water  and  (as  it  seemed  to  me)  soft 
ened  into  a  sort  of  harmony  with  the  night  itself. 

However,  I  did  not  allow  these  reflections  to 
put  me  off  my  duty  or  make  me  forgetful  of  the 
strict  commands  I  had  previously  received  from 
Sasa.  I  came  up  softly  under  the  bow  of  the 
Nukanono,  dismissed  Joe  in  a  whisper,  and  climbed 
silently  to  my  appointed  station.  I  had  not  been 
there  a  minute  when  I  felt  Sasa's  hand  on  my 
shoulder  and  heard  her  say  softly  in  my  ear, 
"  Malie,"  which  in  Samoan  means  good  or  well 
done.  Then  she  slipped  away,  and  I  heard  her 
with  sweet  imperiousness  ordering  about  the  crew 
and  bidding  them  slip  the  moorings.  We  had 
hardly  got  steerage-way  when  I  heard  a  commo 
tion  aft,  a  choking,  angry  voice,  that  sounded 
through  the  hubbub  like  Silver  Tongue's,  a  quick, 
fierce,  violent  struggle,  and  then  suddenly  the  com 
panion  hatch  went  shut  with  a  bang.  Even  as  it 
did  so  the  fore-hatch  followed  with  a  crash,  and 
everybody  began  to  cheer.  From  below  there  rose 
the  sound  of  thumping,  smothered  Teutonic  pro 
tests,  and  a  long,  poignant,  and  unmistakably  fem 
inine  wail. 

10  137. 


"  All  finish,  captain,"  said  Sasa,  coming  up  to 
me  cheerfully. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  it's  all 
about  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Just  a  little  tongafiti  to  bring  loving  hearts  to 
gether,"  said  Sasa.  "  They  threw  Silver  Tongue 
down  the  after  hatchway,  while  me  and  the  girls 
we  pushed  Rosalie  down  the  forehold.  There  they 
are,  all  alone  in  the  dark,  with  five  hours  to  make 
it  up!" 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  Sasa's  plan,  espe 
cially  when  under  my  feet  I  began  to  hear  more 
frenzied  thumping  and  more  feminine  wails.  Then 
I  recollected  there  wasn't  five  feet  of  headroom 
below,  and  that  the  place,  even  with  the  hatches 
off,  was  hot  enough  to  boil  water  in. 

"  They'll  die  down  there,  Sasa,"  I  said. 

"  No  fear,"  said  Sasa.  "  Rosalie  is  half  Samoa, 
and  as  for  Silver  Tongue — if  he  get  roast  like  his 
own  bread  nobody  care  a  banana." 

"But,  Sasa—"  I  protested. 

"  Now  you  go  flirt  with  some  my  girls,"  she  said, 
"  and  don't  bother  your  old  head  about  nothings !  " 

"  But,  my  dear  girl — "  I  protested. 

"They'll  do  very  nicely,  thank  you,"  said  Sasa, 
interrupting  me,  "  and  if  they're  hungry,  isn't  there 
ham  sandwich?  And  if  they're  thirsty,  isn't  there 
claret  punch  in  a  milk  can?  And  as  for  lights — 
true  lovers  don't  want  no  lights ! " 

138 


O'S  HEAD 

"  Well,  Sasa,"  I  said,  "  I  dare  say  it's  a  bright 
idea,  and  that  you  deserve  the  greatest  credit  for 
arranging  it  all ;  but  for  the  Lord's  sake,  let  me 
off  the  ship  before  you  remove  the  hatches." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Sasa,  "  everybody  stay  and  see 
the  fun!" 

Fun,  indeed,  I  thought,  as  I  heard  a  terrific 
pounding  below,  and  an  uproar  that  would  have 
been  creditable  to  a  sinking  liner.  The  deck  shook 
with  sledge-hammer  blows,  and  a  lot  of  glasses 
tumbled  off  one  of  our  improvised  tables.  Then 
we  heard  what  was  obviously  a  revengeful  wreck 
ing  of  the  whole  ship's  interior — the  smashing  of 
crockery  and  lamps,  a  tramping  and  a  kicking  and 
a  throwing  down  of  everything  that  was  loose  or 
could  be  wrenched  off,  together  with  a  hollow,  re- 
verberatory  boom  of  German  profan —  No,  I  won't 
be  unjust,  and  one  really  couldn't  hear  well.  Sasa 
stamped  on  the  deck  with  her  little  foot  and  cried 
out :  "  Be  quiet,  you  silly  baker !  "  But  the  silly 
baker  only  roused  himself  to  a  renewed  ferocity, 
and,  instead  of  calming  down,  went  off  again  like 
twenty-five  bunches  of  firecrackers  under  a  barrel 
— and  large  firecrackers,  too. 

Off  and  on  he  must  have  kept  this  up  for  more 
than  an  hour;  then  at  length  he  subsided,  finding, 
I  suppose,  that  one  German  baker,  however  in 
furiated,  was  unable  to  make  an  impression  on  a 
three-inch  deck.  By  the  end  of  the  second  hour 

139 


WILD   JUSTICE 


we  had  forgotten  all  about  him,  for  heeling  over 
in  the  pleasant  breeze,  and  what  with  singing  and 
telling  stories  and  flirting  in  the  moonlight  we  were 
all  too  happy  and  too  busy  to  take  thought  of  the 
stifling  lovers  below  our  feet.  Occasionally  I  had 
a  haunting  sense  of  a  day  of  reckoning,  but  I  held 
my  peace  and  forebore  to  disquiet  my  pretty  hostess, 
who  was  the  life  and  soul  of  the  whole  party 
aboard,  and  whose  silvery  laughter  chimed  in  so 
sweetly  with  the  tropic  night  and  the  rippling  gur 
gle  of  water  along  our  keel. 

It  was  past  three  o'clock  when  we  picked  up  the 
Mission  light  and  ran  back  to  our  moorings  off 
the  Firm.  Then  the  question  arose  as  to  who 
would  uncage  our  love-birds  and  bear  the  first  brunt 
of  Silver  Tongue's  explosion.  I  confess  I  was 
very  little  eager  for  the  job,  and  felt  a  peculiar 
sinking  in  the  region  of  my  watch  pocket  as  we 
unlocked  the  after-hatch  and  rolled  it  softly  back, 
Sasa,  with  a  bull's-eye  lantern  penetrating  the 
gloom  with  a  dazzling  circle  of  light.  It  fell  on 
the  figures  of  Rosalie  and  Silver  Tongue  seated 
on  a  settee  and  locked  in  each  other's  arms.  Rosa 
lie  was  asleep,  with  her  graceful  head  lying  on 
Silver  Tongue's  breast  and  her  long  lashes  still  wet 
with  tears.  The  baker,  his  face  crimson  with  heat 
and  streaked  with  rivulets  of  perspiration,  looked 
up  at  us  grimly  through  a  sort  of  mist.  I  waited 
for  him  to  spring  to  his  feet  and  throw  himself 
140 


O'S   HEAD 

like  a  lion  on  my  shrinking  form;  but,  instead  of 
doing  so,  he  pressed  his  arms  closer  round  Rosalie 
and  smiled — yes,  by  Jove,  smiled — and,  if  you'll 
take  the  word  of  a  retired  master  mariner,  winked, 
with  a  peculiar,  tender  and  calfish  expression  that 
in  anybody  else  would  have  been  called  skittish. 

"  How  goes  it,  old  man  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Captain,"  he  returned  in  the  tone  of  a  clarionet 
tootling  a  love  passage  in  grand  opera,  "  me  and 
Rosalie  invites  you  all  to  the  Bublic  Hall  Thursday 
night  to  dance  at  our  wedding ! " 


PROFESSOR    NO    NO 

IT  was  years  ago  that  he  came  to  Uvea  (said 
little  Nofo,  as  we  sat  side  by  side  on  a  derelict 
spar  and  watched  the  sun  go  down  into  the  la 
goon) — years  and  years  and  years  ago,  when  I  was 
an  unthinking  child  and  knew  naught  of  men  nor 
their  crooked  hearts.  He  was  a  chief,  of  wild  and 
strange  appearance,  with  a  black  beard  half  cover 
ing  his  piglike  face;  a  thin,  bent,  elderly  chief, 
with  hairy  hands,  and  a  head  on  which  there  was 
nothing  at  all,  and  teeth  so  loose  in  his  mouth  that 
at  night  he  laid  them  in  a  cup  beside  him.  He  was 
landed  from  a  ship  that  forthwith  sailed  and  was 
never  seen  again — he  and  three  tents,  and  a  boat 
and  innumerable  boxes,  all  numbered  from  one  to 
a  thousand,  and  a  nigger  named  Billy  Hindoo  to 
care  for  him  and  cook. 

The  Government  gave  him  a  piece  of  land  next 
the  lagoon,  where  he  pitched  his  tents  and  lived; 
and  they  put  a  taboo  round  the  land  so  that  none 
might  cross,  and  also  a  notice  on  a  board,  saying, 
"  Be  careful  of  the  white  man."  Here  he  unpacked 
his  things,  and  arranged  a  place  for  Billy  Hindoo, 
and  another  place,  open  at  the  sides,  where  at  a 
142 


PROFESSOR    NO   NO 


table  he  was  daily  served  with  sardines  and  bot 
tled  beer.  He  was  named  Professor,  and  his  occu 
pation,  unlike  that  of  all  other  white  men,  was  to 
look  at  dead  fish  through  bits  of  glass.  He  was  a 
man  of  no  kindness  nor  accomplishments,  meanly 
solitary,  and,  in  spite  of  two  pairs  of  spectacles 
worn  the  one  on  the  other,  he  was  almost  blind 
besides.  Were  you  to  come  near  him,  he  would 
scream  out,  "  No,  no !  "  Were  you  even  to  touch 
his  bits  of  glass,  or  finger  his  sticky  sha'dow  pic 
tures  in  the  pool,  he  would  run  at  you,  crying, 
"  No,  no ! "  Were  you  to  approach  him  as  he 
bathed  in  the  lagoon,  marveling  at  his  unsightli- 
ness,  he  would  beat  the  water  like  one  delirious, 
and  scream  again,  "  No,  no !  "  So,  in  time,  his 
name  became  changed  from  Professor  into  No  No, 
or,  as  many  called  him  in  one  word,  Professor 
No  No;  and  we  all  grew  to  hate  him,  as  did  also 
Billy  Hindoo,  who  was  generous  and  loving,  and 
gave  away  unstintedly  sardines  and  biscuit  to  those 
he  favored. 

But  Professor  No  No,  unexpectedly  returning 
in  his  boat  with  a  new  dead  fish  no  bigger  than 
that  (a  fish,  too,  of  so  little  worth  that  one  couldn't 
eat  it  without  feeling  ill  for  the  succeeding  week), 
discovered  Billy  Hindoo  dividing  a  tin  of  biscuit 
among  the  girls  with  whom  he  had  made  friends. 
The  rage  of  Professor  No  No  was  without  limit, 
and  he  ran  at  Billy  Hindoo  and  choked  him  with 


WILD   JUSTICE 


his  hairy  hands,  and  beat  him  over  the  body  with 
a  stick,  and  drove  him  away  with  execrations. 
Then  he  sat  down  at  the  table  and  drank  bottled 
beer,  and  held  up  the  fish  to  his  blind  eyes,  and 
at  intervals  shouted  out,  "  No,  no ;  No,  no,"  as  we 
all  crowded  about  the  taboo  line,  watching  and 
wondering. 

The  next  day  Billy  Hindoo  came  back,  but  Pro 
fessor  No  No  repelled  him  with  a  stick,  having 
counted  the  beer  and  the  sardines  and  the  biscuit, 
and  found  many  missing.  Then  Billy  Hindoo 
sought  a  place  in  the  house  of  Tamua,  and  being  a 
man  of  subtle  mind,  though  without  paper  on  which 
to  write,  carved  the  date  of  his  rejection  on  a  tree, 
together  with  the  names  of  witnesses  who  had  seen 
him  struck.  He  would  fain  have  brought  suit 
against  his  master  before  the  ancients,  but  they 
were  afraid  of  men-of-war,  and  thought  it  ill  to 
interfere.  But  the  anger  of  Billy  Hindoo  sur 
passed  that  of  a  woman  whose  man  'has  cast  her 
off;  and,  baffled  in  one  direction,  he  redoubled 
his  efforts  in  another,  telling  tales  about  Professor 
No  No  that  made  the  strongest  shudder  to  hear 
them;  how,  indeed,  he  was  Antichrist,  and  that  his 
coming  to  Uvea  had  been  foretold  in  Revelations. 
Whether  this  was  true  or  false,  it  was  evident  that 
Professor  No  No  believed  not  in  God;  for  it  was 
seen  he  went  never  to  church,  and  remembered 
(when  strangers  asked  him  if  he  were  a  mission- 
144 


PROFESSOR    NO   NO 


ary)  that  he  would  grow  beside  himself  and  roar, 
"  No,  no !  "  snorting  like  a  suffocating  person. 

Now  there  lived  in  the  village  a  chief  named 
Malamalama,  a  young  man  who  owned  a  fine  house 
and  much  land,  and  was  withal  so  handsome  and 
gay  that  there  was  scarce  a  woman  but  whose  eyes 
shone  at  the  sight  of  him.  And  Malamalama's 
wife  was  named  Salesa,  and  the  strange  thing 
about  Salesa  was  that  she  was  white.  Her  father 
had  been  a  papalangi,  and  her  mother  (who  came 
from  another  island  to  the  southward)  a  half- 
white;  and  Salesa,  the  child  of  the  two,  was  fairer 
than  either,  and  a  girl,  besides,  of  wonderful 
beauty.  It  was  this  that  found  her  favor  in  Mala 
malama's  sight,  for  she  was  without  family,  and 
what  Kanaka  blood  she  possessed  was  that  of 
slaves;  but  the  chief  must  needs  have  his  way, 
being  a  man  of  imperious  temper  and  willful  un 
der  advice;  and  so  the  little  out-islander  was  mar 
ried  to  him  and  elevated  to  the  rank  of  chieftainess. 

Then  her  arrogance  and  pride,  previously  con 
cealed  by  the  humbleness  of  her  station,  broke  out 
with  the  fierceness  of  consuming  flames.  Were 
you  to  pass  her  on  the  road  and  say,  "  Talofa, 
Salesa,"  she  often  deigned  not  to  return  your  greet 
ing;  and  when  people  came  to  her  house  she  did 
not  like,  she  would  say  to  them,  "  Go  away,"  like 
that,  so  that  everyone  was  insulted  and  retired  with 
.darkened  faces.  Of  course,  she  was  not  utterly 

MJ 


WILD   JUSTICE 


without  friends,  women  of  contemptible  spirit  who 
fawned  on  her  like  dogs,  saying,  "  Lo,  is  she  not 
beautiful  ?  "  But  they  were  only  a  handful,  and 
by  degrees  grew  less  and  less,  for  she  was  as 
mean  with  her  property  as  Professor  No  No,  and 
made  the  most  trifling  returns  for  pigs  or  costly 
presents.  So  in  time  she  was  left  alone  in  her  fine 
house,  and  though  she  had  a  sewing  machine  and 
a  musical  box,  and  goldfish  in  a  glass  jar,  and  an 
umbrella  with  a  glittering  handle,  she  spent  her 
days  in  yawning,  and  her  nights  in  telling  Malama- 
lama  what  a  fool  she  had  been  to  marry  him. 

After  the  manner  of  men,  Malamalama's  love 
increased  in  the  proportion  of  her  disdain,  and  there 
was  nothing  he  would  not  do  to  try  and  please  her. 
He  took  her  on  board  every  succeeding  ship,  and 
remained  for  hours  in  the  trade  room  while  she 
spent  the  price  of  many  tons  of  copra  and  pearl 
shell  in  filling  a  chest  with  purchases,  saying,  in  her 
presumptuous  way,  "  Give  me  twenty  fathoms  of 
this;  give  me  forty  fathoms  of  the  other.  This 
silk  is  good,  lo !  I  will  take  a  bolt."  And  Malama- 
lama,  who  perhaps  wanted  an  anchor  for  his  boat, 
or  a  little,  tiny,  trifling  pea-soupo  of  paint,  had 
perforce  to  do  without  either,  and  paddle  ashore 
again,  poorer,  indeed,  than  many  of  his  serfs  and 
dependents. 

On  these  occasions  also  Salesa  showed  a  lawless 
deportment  among  the  whites  that  put  her  good 
146 


PROFESSOR   NO  NO 


name  in  jeopardy  and  caused  many  to  wonder  and 
gossip.  She  would  sit  at  the  cabin  table  and  drink 
beer  and  eat  sardines,  saying  saucily,  "  Me  white 
mans,  too,"  as  she  joked  and  laughed  with  the  cap 
tains  and  supercargoes.  Or,  if  some  one  put  his 
head  down  the  hatchway,  she  would  call  out,  "  Oh, 
the  Kanaka  dog!  Go  'way,  you  peeping  Kanaka 
dog !  "  Whereat  the  whites  would  slap  her  on  the 
back,  and  it  was  said  they  even  placed  her  on  their 
knees  and  kissed  her.  Be  that  true  or  false,  Mala- 
malama  grew  to  hate  the  sight  of  a  ship ;  and  some 
times,  when  he  and  Salesa  went  on  board  together, 
he  showed  her  a  sharp  knife,  and  said,  "  Be  careful, 
you  wicked  white  woman,  or  I  shall  kill  you." 

She  was  as  changeable  as  a  little  child,  and  had 
humors,  too,  of  tenderness  and  contrition,  when 
she  would  put  her  arms  round  her  husband's  neck 
and  be-darling  him,  saying,  "  I  love  you !  I  love 
you ! "  and  bemoan  her  contrariness  and  the  fact 
that  she  was  white.  For  though  she  was  born  and 
bred  with  us,  she  felt  she  was  not  of  our  race ;  and 
sometimes  she  would  say  to  Malamalama  when  he 
reproached  her,  "  Sell  me  to  one  of  the  captains 
for  a  whaleboat  and  let  me  go."  But  Malamalama 
only  loved  her  the  more,  and  his  handsome  face 
grew  sullen  and  angry  as  he  threatened  again  to 
kill  her  if  she  misbehaved. 

Now  when  Professor  No  No  came  to  live  with 
us  on  the  lagoon,  Salesa  was  beside  herself  with 


WILD    JUSTICE 


curiosity,  and  heaped  presents  on  Billy  Hindoo  in 
order  to  learn  about  his  master.  But  Billy  Hindoo 
knew  nothing  but  his  own  stutter,  and  though  he 
took  the  presents  and  came  constantly  to  Salesa's 
house,  very  little  in  the  way  of  information  was 
accomplished.  At  last,  greatly  daring,  Salesa  ar 
rayed  herself  in  her  finest  clothes,  and  with  serv 
ants  carrying  gifts  of  pigs  and  chickens,  went  down 
to  the  lagoon  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  stranger.  She 
found  Professor  No  No  sitting  at  his  table,  looking 
at  dead  fish  through  bits  of  glass,  and  he  never 
turned  round  as  the  party  halted  at  the  taboo  line 
and  coughed  deprecatorily  in  order  to  attract  his 
attention.  Then  Salesa,  who  feared  neither  devil 
nor  man,  took  the  baskets  in  her  arms  and  stepped 
across  the  taboo,  saying  in  a  voice  of  sweetness, 
"  Professor  No  No !  Professor  No  No !  " 

He  sprang  from  the  table  and  rushed  at  her, 
waving  his  arms,  and  screaming  as  was  his  wont, 
"  No,  no !  No,  no !  "  while  she,  overcome  with 
terror,  dropped  the  gifts  and  fled  like  a  sea  mew 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  That  night  all  Uvea 
joked  about  her  discomfiture,  while  she  sat  in  her 
house  and  cried,  and  Billy  Hindoo  was  invited 
everywhere  to  tell  the  story  in  the  antics  that  served 
him  in  the  place  of  a  tongue.  But  once  Salesa 
had  set  her  heart  on  a  thing  she  never  faltered 
nor  turned  aside;  and  though  she  waited  and 
waited,  it  was  not  as  one  conquered  or  resigned. 
148 


PROFESSOR   NO   NO 


When  the  quarrel  came  between  Billy  Hindoo  and 
his  master,  she  saw  the  means,  in  Professor  No 
No's  desolation  and  abandonment,  of  obtaining  the 
satisfaction  of  her  purpose.  For  the  white  man, 
thus  left  to  himself,  grew  increasingly  dirty  and 
uncared  for;  and  his  camp,  once  so  clean  under 
the  care  of  Billy  Hindoo,  became  as  a  pigsty  of 
empty  cans  and  bottles.  Nothing  therein  was 
washed,  and  the  savor  of  Professor  No  No  and  his 
camp  blew  noisomely  across  the  taboo  line  as  one 
walked  to  leeward. 

One  day,  after  spying  out  that  he  had  already 
sailed  out  for  more  fish  to  look  at  through  bits  of 
glass,  Salesa  crept  into  the  settlement  and  began 
to  make  it  clean  again.  She  carried  away  all  the 
tins  and  bottles ;  she  swept  the  disordered  grass ; 
she  entered  the  professor's  tent,  filling  his  water- 
bottles,  making  his  bed  and  decorating  it  with 
flowers  and  laumaile.  Then,  as  she  had  so  often 
watched  Billy  Hindoo  from  a  distance,  she  spread 
the  table  with  a  clean  cloth,  and  on  it  she  placed 
a  bottle  of  beer  and  a  tin  of  sardines  under  a  wire 
netting  and  three  ship's  biscuits  in  a  row.  Then 
she  went  back  and  hid  in  the  undergrowth,  waiting 
and  waiting,  like  a  warrior  in  an  ambush. 

But  Professor  No  No  made  no  sign  as  he  landed 
from  his  boat,  nor  did  he  seem  to  perceive  that 
anything  unusual  had  taken  place  in  the  time  he 
had  been  gone.  He  drank  the  bottle  of  beer  and 

149. 


WILD   JUSTICE 


ate  the  sardines  and  biscuit,  never  troubling  him 
self  whence  they  had  come ;  and  while  Salesa  waited 
and  waited  with  a  suffocating  heart,  he  looked  at 
dead  fish  through  bits  of  glass.  But  day  by  day 
she  returned  to  his  camp  with  the  assiduity  of  a 
mother  to  her  nursing  child ;  and  by  degrees  grow 
ing  bolder  with  custom,  she  no  longer  watched 
until  Professor  No  No  had  departed,  but  moved 
here  and  there  about  his  land,  secure  by  reason 
of  his  blindness  and  preoccupation.  Like  a  wild 
animal  to  whom  one  approaches  with  gentleness 
and  precaution,  thus  it  was  with  Professor  No  No 
in  the  hands  of  Salesa.  First  he  saw  her  only  at 
a  distance  as  she  cleaned  and  swept;  then  a  little 
closer  as  she  spread  his  table  and  laid  out  his 
bottle  of  beer  and  the  sardines  and  biscuit;  then 
it  came  about  that  she  even  touched  him  with  im 
punity,  and  sat  beside  him  in  a  chair  as  he  con 
tinued  to  look  at  dead  fish  through  bits  of  glass. 
At  last  she  dared  to  speak,  telling  him  softly  the 
names  of  the  dead  fish,  which  he  wrote  down  in 
a  little  book,  and  informing  him  also  that  her  name 
was  Salesa,  and  that  she  loved  him. 

And  she,  so  defiant  and  proud,  became  as  an 
other  person;  so  that  she  was  kind  not  only  to 
Professor  No  No,  but  to  others  whom  she  had 
previously  treated  with  contumely.  She  carried  the 
white  man's  packages  when  he  went  abroad,  his 
photograph  box  and  all  manner  of  apparatus  and 
150 


PROFESSOR    NO   NO 


tools,  and  the  bottle  of  beer  and  the  sardines  for 
his  well-being,  never  heeding  the  sun  nor  the  fiery 
sand.  She  sat  with  him  daily  in  his  boat,  baiting 
his  hooks  and  catching  fish  likewise,  and  grew  wise 
also  in  looking  at  them  through  bits  of  glass,  so 
that  he  no  longer  ran  at  her  and  cried,  "  No,  no ! " 
when  she  touched  his  things.  On  the  contrary,  her 
wisdom  increased  in  such  matters,  becoming  in 
time  even  as  his  own,  so  that  she  also  took  photo 
graphs,  and  hammered  off  pieces  of  coral  from  the 
reef,  and  grew  excited  over  little,  common,  worth 
less  fish  that  stung  you  if  you  touched  them. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Malamalama  watched 
with  any  equanimity  this  increasing  friendship  be 
tween  Professor  No  No  and  his  wife,  or  that  the 
constant  tale  of  scandal  and  evil-doing  fell  on  heed 
less  ears.  He  beat  Salesa  repeatedly  with  a  stick, 
and  she  bit  him  in  return  all  over  his  beautiful 
body;  and  their  fine  house,  once  the  envy  of  all 
Uvea,  reechoed  distressfully  with  screams  and 
blows.  But  the  madness  of  a  woman  for  a  man 
is  not  thus  to  be  set  aside,  and  the  more  Malama 
lama  beat  her  with  a  stick,  the  more  ardent  grew 
her  love  for  Professor  No  No ;  and  when  he  talked 
with  her  and  argued,  she  would  answer  unabashed 
that  whites  were  whites  and  Kanakas  were  Kana 
kas,  and  that  it  was  ill  to  mix  the  oil  and  water 
of  the  races. 

"  But  he  is  overgrown  with  hair  like  a  dog," 

15* 


WILD   JUSTICE 


said  Malamalama,  "  except  on  his  head,  which  glis 
tens  like  a  sting  ray  in  the  sun,  and  he  is  altogether 
hideous  and  frightening.  It  is  not  reasonable  that 
anyone  should  prefer  him  to  me." 

"  But  there  is  that  in  his  head  which  makes 
him  beautiful,"  said  Salesa. 

"  Lo !  I  have  things  in  my  head  also,"  said  Mala 
malama,  "  and  I  pass  my  life,  besides,  like  a  man, 
diving  for  shell,  and  cutting  copra  on  my  property, 
and  attending  to  the  affairs  of  the  church  where  I 
am  deacon,  and  finding  everywhere  a  better  em 
ployment  than  that  of  looking  at  dead  fish  through 
bits  of  glass." 

"  Malamalama,"  said  Salesa,  "  divorce  me  and 
let  me  go,  and  take  thy  choice  of  all  the  maids  of 
Uvea  in  my  stead.  Professor  No  No  loves  me  not, 
but  I  am  his  bondslave  in  love,  and  care  for  no 
other  man  but  him." 

Now  this  was  very  good  advice,  and  the  chief 
would  have  done  well  to  follow  it.  But  there  is 
in  men  a  pride  about  their  women  that  blinds  their 
eyes  to  sense,  and  Malamalama,  instead  of  heed 
ing,  grew,  on  the  contrary,  morose  and  willful. 
He  listened  more  greedily  than  ever  to  Billy  Hin 
doo,  and  to  the  tales  the  nigger  brought  him  con 
stantly  of  Salesa's  misdoing;  for  Billy  Hindoo  was 
crazed  with  anger  against  his  master,  and  against 
the  woman  who  had  so  successfully  supplanted  him, 
and  was  eager  to  revenge  himself  on  both.  And 

152 


PROFESSOR    NO   NO 


one  day  he  brought  not  only  a  new  tale,  but  a 
bottle  of  gin  he  had  managed  to  pilfer  from  the 
camp  of  Professor  No  No. 

Malamalama  began  to  drink  the  gin,  and  the 
more  he  drank  the  more  he  began  to  feel  the  aching 
of  his  spirit.  He  stopped  the  passers-by  and  told 
them  of  his  wrongs ;  he  rolled  over  in  the  road, 
so  that  he  was  all  dirty,  calling  out  curses  on  his 
wife  and  Professor  No  No.  He  cried  and  cried, 
and  staggered  about  and  shouted,  and  rushed  hither 
and  thither,  exclaiming,  "  I  will  kill  them !  I  will 
kill  them !  "  And  all  the  while  he  drank  of  the 
gin  with  an  increasing  fury,  so  that  he  went  at  last 
and  got  his  rifle  and  four  boxes  of  cartridges  and 
walked  unsteadily  toward  the  lagoon,  weeping  and 
laughing  and  beating  the  air  with  his  loaded  gun. 
And  I,  then  only  a  little  child,  followed  him  at  a 
distance,  wondering  and  mocking  with  the  others. 

Now  on  this  occasion  it  happened  that  Salesa 
was  away  in  the  boat,  and  Professor  No  No,  all 
alone,  was  sitting  at  his  table  and  looking  at  dead 
fish  through  bits  of  glass.  Malamalama  stopped 
at  the  taboo  line,  not  daring  to  cross  it,  and  with 
held,  besides,  by  the  notice  on  the  tree ;  and  he  was 
so  tipsy  with  the  gin  that  he  could  barely  shout, 
nor  hold  the  gun  up  to  his  shoulder.  But  he  fired, 
as  straight  as  he  could,  in  the  direction  of  Pro 
fessor  No  No,  and  shattered  a  glass  barrel  of  dead 
fish  at  his  elbow.  Professor  No  No  leaped  in  the 

«  153 


WILD   JUSTICE 


air,  so  that  at  first  we  thought,  erroneously,  that 
he  had  been  hurt;  and  he  ran  this  way  and  that, 
dodging  the  bullets  from  Malamalama's  gun.  He 
seemed  to  believe  that  the  taboo  gave  him  protec 
tion,  for,  instead  of  bolting  into  the  undergrowth, 
he  raced  around  and  around  in  a  circle,  and  then 
inside  this  tent  and  that,  so  that  it  was  laughable 
to  watch  him  popping  in  and  out  like  a  terrified 
rat.  And  Malamalama,  so  overcome  with  gin  that 
he  could  barely  see,  fired  and  fired  and  fired  from 
the  four  boxes  of  his  cartridges.  Then,  when  all 
was  finished,  he  rose  and  went  home,  while  the 
children  crowded  the  line  and  shouted,  "  Professor 
No  No,  art  thou  dead  ? " 

That  night  there  was  a  meeting  of  the  ancients 
in  the  speak-house,  and  all  the  culprits  were  there 
under  guard  to  receive  a  judgment.  Malamalama 
was  fined  one  dollar  for  being  drunk  and  fifteen 
dollars  for  firing  unwarrantably  at  Professor  No 
No;  and  Professor  No  No  was  fined  fifteen  dollars 
for  having  won  Salesa  from  her  husband ;  and  Billy 
Hindoo  was  fined  fifteen  dollars  for  having  given 
the  gin  to  Malamalama  and  for  the  mischief  he  had 
caused  with  his  lying  tongue ;  and  Salesa  was  sur 
rendered  to  the  matrons  of  the  village  to  receive 
a  lashing  for  her  misconduct.  Then  Tanielu,  the 
pastor,  prayed  that  God's  wrath  might  be  averted 
from  so  wicked  a  village,  and  made  a  beautiful 
parable  about  the  Garden  of  Eden  and  the  serpent. 

154 


PROFESSOR    NO   NO 


One  might  have  thought  that  this  would  have 
healed  the  matter,  and  that  a  punishment  so  nearly 
equal  would  have  been  submitted  to  with  humility 
and  grace.  But,  on  the  contrary,  the  quarrel  went 
from  bad  to  worse,  so  that  Tanielu,  the  pastor, 
would  say  sorrowfully  from  the  pulpit  that  Uvea 
was  like  another  hell,  but  with  four  devils  instead 
of  one.  Malamalama,  once  a  pillar  of  the  church, 
was  degraded  from  the  rank  of  deacon  and  ex 
pelled,  becoming  speedily  dissolute  and  abandoned, 
opening  his  house  for  forbidden  dances,  and  taking 
new  wives  in  shameless  succession;  and  Salesa,  her 
pretty  body  red  with  stripes,  found  no  consolation 
whatever  in  her  white  darling,  who  ran  at  her  re- 
pellingly,  shouting  "  No,  no ! "  like  a  lion ;  and 
Billy  Hindoo,  of  whom  everyone  had  tired  on  ac 
count  of  his  light  fingers  and  calumniating  tongue, 
grew  increasingly  burdensome  to  his  adopted  fam 
ily,  and  spent  most  of  his  time  in  stoning  Professor 
No  No  from  a  safe  distance  and  demanding  his 
wages  even  to  that  day,  together  with  a  passage 
at  once  to  the  white  country. 

During  this  season  no  ship  at  all  came  to  Uvea, 
though  Professor  No  No  watched  unceasingly  for 
one,  and  likewise  Billy  Hindoo,  and  likewise  Ma 
lamalama,  the  chief ;  and  Tanielu  prayed  and  prayed 
and  prayed  without  end,  "  Lord,  send  Thou  speed 
ily  a  vessel  and  rid  us  of  these  intruders."  The 
white  man,  for  all  his  wisdom,  was  cowardly  be- 

J55 


WILD    JUSTICE 


yond  belief,  and  so  fearful  of  Malamalama  that 
the  sight  of  Salesa  made  him  tremble  forthwith 
with  apprehension.  And  she,  repelled  by  her  hus 
band  and  dependent  on  the  bounty  of  those  that 
despised  her,  became  as  one  lost  to  all  propriety, 
and  would  run  at  Professor  No  No  and  clasp  him 
in  her  arms  and  cherish  him,  he  fighting  and  re 
sisting  with  all  his  might,  crying  "  No,  no !  "  in 
a  terrible  voice.  Were  he  to  unmoor  his  boat,  lo! 
she  was  there  swimming  in  its  wake  and  demand 
ing  to  be  taken  in,  lest  she  drown;  were  he  to 
sit  down  and  quietly  look  at  dead  fish  through  bits 
of  glass,  lo!  there  also  was  she  beside  him  in  a 
chair;  were  he  to  slumber  in  a  shady  place  during 
the  afternoon,  he  would  awake  with  his  head  in 
her  lap  or  with  her  kisses  against  his  lips. 

So  weak,  indeed,  was  his  heart,  that  he  was  not 
even  grateful  for  her  assistance  against  Billy  Hin 
doo,  who  came  constantly,  this  day  and  that,  with 
unfailing  regularity,  to  throw  stones  at  his  former 
master  and  cry  threateningly,  "  Hi,  yi !  give  me 
wages  even  to  this  day,  and  return  me  to  the  white 
country  according  to  thy  covenant."  Then  it  was 
that  Salesa  would  throw  stones  back  again,  or  would 
hide  in  the  bushes  and  try  to  strike  the  nigger  with 
a  knife,  saying  in  mockery  as  she  sprang  at  him, 
"  Hi,  yi !  take  that !  "  And  once  she  came  to  him 
so  close  that  she  slashed  him  across  the  breast,  and 
he  hastened  bleeding  before  the  ancients  and  vocif- 


PROFESSOR   NO   NO 


erously  complained.  Then  she  was  whipped  again 
by  the  matrons,  and  Billy  Hindoo  was  fined  for 
throwing  stones,  and  Professor  No  No  was  fined 
yet  a  second  time  for  stealing  away  Malamalama's 
wife,  and  Malamalama  was  fined  for  leading  a  life 
of  infamy  and  riot,  and  Tanielu  said  again  from 
the  pulpit,  "  Hasten,  Lord,  or  Thy  servants  per 
ish!" 

Thus  the  days  passed  in  unending  strife  and 
bitterness,  terrible  now  to  be  recalled.  When 
Malamalama  took  a  new  wife,  the  former  wife's 
family  would  lie  in  wait  and  try  to  kill  him;  and 
other  husbands,  before  exemplary  and  well  con 
ducted,  growing  restive  to  see  him  so  successful 
in  his  unbridled  wickedness,  took  in  their  turn  the 
pick  of  the  village  maids,  propagating  hatred  and 
disorder  the  like  of  which  had  never  before  been 
known  in  Uvea.  Then  the  drought  came,  and  the 
young  nuts  shriveled  on  the  trees,  and  the  sky,  as 
far  as  one's  eye  could  reach,  remained  like  shining 
copper,  without  a  breath.  It  was  plainly  seen  that 
God,  in  anger,  was  laying  His  hand  heavily  on 
Uvea;  and  lo!  He  spoke  through  the  pastor  Ta 
nielu,  saying,  "  Repent,  repent,  or  else  ye  perish !  " 

There  was  a  great  meeting  of  the  ancients  in  the 
speak-house;  and  one  ancient  spoke  for  Malama 
lama,  and  another  ancient  spoke  for  Salesa,  and  an 
other  ancient  spoke  for  Professor  No  No,  and  still 
another  ancient  spoke  for  Billy  Hindoo;  and  the 

157 


WILD   JUSTICE 


whole  matter  was  inquired  into  from  the  first  day 
and  debated  in  turn  by  all  the  ancients,  and  a  final 
judgment  at  length  arrived  at.  Malamalama  was 
confirmed  in  his  latest  marriage,  swearing  with  his 
hand  on  the  Holy  Book  that  in  future  he  would 
cease  his  evil  and  cling  to  her,  giving  a  fine  mat  by 
way  of  reparation  to  each  of  her  predecessors ;  and 
Salesa  was  declared  divorced  from  Malamalama, 
and  she  and  Professor  No  No  were  ordered  to  marry 
themselves  forthwith  before  the  pastor  Tanielu ;  and 
Billy  Hindoo  was  commanded  to  go  back  to  his 
master  and  remain  within  the  taboo  line  under 
pain  of  death,  and  an  ancient  was  appointed  to 
visit  him  daily  to  lash  him  if  he  misbehaved  even 
in  the  smallest  matter ;  and  then  the  whole  meeting 
prayed  first  for  rain,  and  then  that  God  might 
send  a  ship. 

When  the  new  arrangement  was  with  difficulty 
explained  to  the  white  man,  he  was  as  one  crazed, 
waving  his  arms  and  screaming  out  "  No,  no ! " 
without  cessation;  and  he  persisted  thus,  to  the 
scandal  of  everyone,  until  Tanielu,  losing  patience, 
struck  him  like  that  on  the  head  and  married  him 
immediately  to  Salesa,  whose  face  shone  with  con 
tentment  and  happiness.  In  this  manner  Professor 
No  No  and  Salesa  and  Billy  Hindoo  were  escorted 
homeward  to  their  camp;  and  then  everyone 
breathed  with  relief  and  congratulated  one  another 
on  so  peaceful  and  satisfactory  a  settlement. 

158 


PROFESSOR   NO   NO 


But  the  ancients  were  still  in  their  places  when 
Salesa  returned,  saying  that  Professor  No  No  had 
repulsed  her;  and  behind  her  was  Billy  Hindoo, 
equally  repulsed,  who  said  his  master  refused  to 
pay  him  his  wages  to  that  day  or  to  send  him  back 
at  once  to  the  white  country  according  to  the  cove 
nant;  and  behind  them  both  was  Professor  No  No 
with  his  head  tied  in  a  towel,  where  the  pastor 
had  hurt  him,  cursing  and  reviling  like  a  maniac. 

Then  the  ancients  held  another  meeting ;  and  lo ! 
it  was  a  secret  meeting ;  and  Tanielu  spoke  for  God, 
and  everyone  made  speeches  in  turn;  and  it  was 
recalled,  with  eloquent  outbursts,  how  peaceful  and 
happy  Uvea  had  been  in  the  days  preceding  Pro 
fessor  No  No's  arrival.  There  were  some  who 
wanted  to  have  him  killed  as  a  punishment;  and 
others  who  voted  against  Salesa,  saying  it  was  she 
who  was  at  fault ;  and  still  others  who  burned  with 
resentment  against  Billy  Hindoo,  declaring  that  he 
was  the  worst  of  all.  Thus,  like  a  battle  rolling 
to  and  fro,  Salesa,  Professor  No  No,  and  Billy  Hin 
doo  were  each  in  turn  imperiled;  and  when  day 
broke,  their  fate,  though  they  knew  it  not,  had  been 
finally  settled  by  the  ancients. 

Professor  No  No's  boat  was  carried  by  twenty 
men  from  the  lagoon  shore,  where  it  lay,  over  to 
the  ocean  beach;  and  with  it  was  borne  sardines 
and  biscuit  and  beer  from  the  white  man's  store; 
and  the  glass  barrels  were  emptied,  many  of  them, 

159 


WILD   JUSTICE 


of  their  dead  fish,  being  washed  and  refilled  with 
fresh  water  from  the  spring,  and  their  glass  tops 
fastened  tightly  with  cocoanut  sinnet.  Then,  when 
everything  had  been  made  ready,  Billy  Hindoo  was 
forced  to  seat  himself  in  the  bow  of  the  boat ;  and 
in  the  stern  were  put  Salesa  and  Professor  No  No, 
side  by  side,  the  center  being  filled  with  the  cargo 
of  provisions  and  water. 

And  Salesa  laughed  and  joked  with  the  men, 
begging  them  to  take  out  Billy  Hindoo,  or  to  give 
him  a  boat  of  his  own;  and  saying  wildly,  when 
denied,  that  she  was  going  where  none  might  whip 
her  now,  to  find  a  beautiful  island  whereon  to  live 
with  her  husband.  But  the  white  man  was  con 
vulsed  with  fear,  and  said  nothing  in  the  making 
ready  of  the  boat,  not  even  "  No,  no  "  when  Salesa 
put  her  arms  round  him  and  kissed  him  again  and 
again  on  the  lips;  and  Billy  Hindoo  shook  like  a 
wet  dog  in  the  bow,  whimpering,  "  Hi,  yi !  me  Brit 
ish  subject !  me  no  likey !  "  babbling  deliriously  be 
sides  of  his  wages  even  to  that  day,  and  of  the 
unfulfilled  covenant  with  its  passage  to  the  white 
country  in  a  ship. 

Then  the  sail  was  hoisted  and  the  sheet  put  into 
Salesa's  hand ;  and  in  this  wise  the  boat  was  shoved 
into  deep  water,  and  her  bow  headed  straight  to 
seaward.  Then  Tanielu  fell  on  his  knees  and 
prayed  that  Uvea  might  be  delivered  forever  and 
ever  of  such  an  infliction;  and  the  young  men 
1 60 


PROFESSOR    NO   NO 


formed  a  line  with  their  rifles,  ready  to  shoot  if  the 
voyagers  showed  the  least  sign  of  coming  back; 
and  across  the  waves  one  could  see  Salesa  support 
ing  Professor  No  No  as  the  boat  lay  over  in  the 
wind,  and  her  mocking  laughter  was  borne  back  to 
us.  And  we  waited  and  waited  and  waited  as  it 
became  a  diminishing  speck  against  the  sky;  and 
waited  and  waited  and  waited  until  it  disappeared. 
Then,  lo!  there  were  explosions  of  thunder  and 
lightning,  and  the  rain  descended  in  torrents,  and 
the  little  children  all  threw  off  their  clothes  and 
ran  about  rejoicing  in  the  wet,  while  the  elders 
looked  at  one  another,  and  said,  "  Lo,  Uvea  is  de 
livered!" 


CAPTAIN    ELIJAH    COE 

PUNA  PUNOU  lies  in  I4th  South  exactly,  though 
the  writer  keeps  back  the  longitood  for  reasons 
that  will  soon  be  understood  by  the  gentle  reader 
— if  the  gentle  reader  is  patient  and  won't  skip. 
Not  that  there  is  any  buried  treasure  there,  or  any 
foolishness  of  that  kind ;  it's  girls  mostly,  and  pearl 
shell  and  cocoanuts,  that  Puna  Punou  produces, 
and  you  don't  need  no  chart  with  red  crosses  from 
my  dying  hands  to  find  any  of  them.  But  Mrs. 
Tweedie  is  still  alive,  and  likewise  Elijah  Coe,  and 
I'd  be  acting  like  the  son  of  a  sea  cook  if  I  did  a 
hand's  turn  to  hurt  either.  Of  course  it's  an  old 
story  now,  going  back  to  the  days  before  the  bot 
tom  had  dropped  out  of  copra,  and  there  was  still 
money  to  be  made  in  beach-la-mar  and  fungus. 
Oh,  my,  yes !  a  long  time  ago,  before  steam  ever  got 
into  the  Group,  before  law  and  order  and  compul 
sory  vaccination,  and  an  hour  and  a  half  of  Deputy 
Commissioner  every  nine  months. 

It  was  always  a  mighty  fine  island  to  look  at, 

rising  sheer  from  the  sea  to  basaltic  cliffs,  and  high 

needlelike  pinnacles,  and  forested  solid  from  the 

water's  edge  to  almost  the  top;  and  off  the  main 

162 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


settlement  of  Fale  a  Lupo  there  was  good  holding 
ground  in  six  fathoms.  A  tidy  little  island,  indeed, 
and  I'd  never  raise  it  of  a  dawn,  and  all  its  palms 
and  beaches  and  little  basket-work  houses  peeping 
out  of  the  deep  shade,  but  I'd  feel  glad  all  over 
again  that  it  was  there,  and  breathe  in  the  fragrant 
smell  of  it  like  a  child  happy  at  getting  home  from 
school.  I  guess  the  people  there  helped  a  lot,  too, 
for  they  were  the  handsomest  in  the  Pacific,  and  it 
was  a  regular  port  of  call  for  the  whalers  to  take 
in  green  stuff,  girls,  fresh  water,  and  firewood. 

In  the  old  days  it  was  the  Rev.  John  Geer  who 
ran  the  missionary  mill,  and  taught  the  heathen  to 
put  their  pennies  in  the  plate  and  wear  pants — not 
that  they  ever  did  the  last  to  any  alarming  extent, 
except  in  the  annual  reports  that  were  sent  back 
to  be  printed  East;  while  Mrs.  Geer  she  homeo- 
pathed  the  island  and  inculcurated  the  principles 
of  female  virtoo  in  the  young.  But  after  twenty- 
one  years  of  it  the  Geers  returned  home  to  Con 
necticut,  and  the  Tweedies  were  landed  from  the 
Olive  Branch  barkentine,  to  take  their  places  in 
that  section  of  the  world's  vineyard. 

Tweedie  was  a  hay-colored  little  man,  narrer 
chested  and  tallowy,  but  if  ever  there  was  a  copper- 
riveted  Christian  from  Christianville  I  guess  he  was 
*'/!  Meek!  Why  he  was  happy  to  get  slapped,  he 
was  that  pleased  to  turn  the  other  cheek;  and  if 
you  took  away  his  cloak,  he  was  the  kind  of  fellar 
163 


WILD   JUSTICE 


who  wanted  you  to  take  his  pan  jammers  extra. 
Had  no  spirit  at  all,  and  the  Kanakas  walked  over 
him  scandalous.  But  it  was  his  wife  I  wanted  to 
tell  about,  Alethea  Tweedie;  for  if  ever  there  was 
an  angel  from  heaven,  with  the  prettiest  blue  eyes, 
and  hair  like  streaming  gold,  and  the  cherriest  lips 
you  ever  saw  out  of  a  chromo,  and  teeth  whiter 
than — than — (it  don't  sound  right  to  say  a  shark's) 
it  was  that  peerless  creature. 

How  Tweedie  could  have  captured  such  a  bang- 
up  stunner  was  hard  to  understand  then,  and 
harder  afterwards.  A  king  on  his  throne  might 
have  been  glad  to  win  Alethea  Tweedie  for  his 
queen,  and  captains  and  supercargoes  would  have 
knifed  each  other  for  a  single  smile,  if  she  had  been 
the  kind  to  lead  them  on — which,  Lord  bless  me! 
was  the  last  thought  she  had  in  her  curly  head.  I 
suppose  she  came  from  one  of  them  little  places 
back  East  where  it's  all  women  for  miles,  and  they 
rate  anything  a  man  that  can  raise  a  whisker! 
Thrown  away,  that's  what  the  beach  called  it,  and 
misdoubted  whether  Tweedie  wasn't  a  girl,  too, 
only  with  drill  trousers  instead  of  panties. 

In  all  them  brown  faces  and  tanned  leathery 
white  ones  you  can  imagine  what  a  pink  rosebud 
she  seemed  to  be;  and  it  wasn't  like  that  she 
stopped  at  that,  for  she  could  sing  like  a  nightin 
gale  and  talk  to  beat  the  band;  and  her  laugh 
itself  was  like  music,  sounding  long  afterwards  in 
164 


CAPTAIN  ELIJAH  COE 


your  ears  at  sea.  Hit?  Jimini  Christmas,  I  should 
say  I  was  hit!  Am  still,  for  that  matter,  with 
just  the  memory  of  her,  though  twenty  years  have 
come  and  gone,  and  I  loved  the  ground  her  little 
feet  walked  on.  Not  that  there  was  anything  out 
of  the  way  in  that.  We  all  did,  down  to  Portu 
guese  Joe,  and  Billy  Jones's  cousin;  and  as  for 
Elijah  Coe,  he  simply  give  one  yelp  and  keeled 
over! 

Coe  was  the  captain  and  owner  of  the  Peep  o' 
Day  topsail  schooner,  and  had  been  trading  about 
the  Group  for  a  matter  of  eight  years.  In  all  my 
seafaring  days  I  never  saw  his  match  for  dare- 
deviltry  or  courage,  though  a  quieter  man  to  look 
at  there  never  was.  He  was  about  forty  years  old, 
tall  and  lean,  with  a  nose  on  him  like  a  hawk ;  and 
to  see  him  stripped  you'd  think  he  was  a  boy,  he 
was  that  straight  and  well  set  up.  A  fine  man  to 
look  at,  very  quick  on  his  pins,  and  kind  of  proud 
and  silent  in  company  like  he  was  mostly  thinking 
of  something  else.  I  reckon  perhaps  he  likely  was, 
for  he  was  splendidly  educated,  with  rows  on  rows 
of  books  in  his  cabin,  and  a  cyclopediar  six  feet 
long.  The  mate  said  he  knew  everything  in  it  up 
to  R,  not  to  speak  of  working  lunars  in  a  saucer 
of  quicksilver,  and  reckonizing  squid  by  its  Latin 
name. 

No  one  knew  how  he  had  got  the  money  to  buy 
his  ship,  which  was  a  re-markable  fine  vessel  and 

165 


WILD   JUSTICE 


fitted  up  regardless.  Some  said  there  was  once  a 
name  on  the  brass  bell  aft,  which  had  been  filed 
down  careful  and  worked  over  with  emery  paper 
afterwards;  but  I  never  could  see  no  sign  of  it 
myself,  though  I  never  went  aboard  but  I  took  a 
good  look;  and  others  who  said  it  was  Labor.  He 
certainly  knew  a  lot  about  the  Westward,  and  I 
heard  him,  one  day,  giving  Captain  Rick  the  di 
rections  to  enter  Port  McGuire  by.  But  you  know 
what  a  place  the  beach  is  for  talk,  and,  anyway, 
heaps  of  good  men  and  highly  respected  have  been 
Blackbirders  in  their  time,  and  I  never  could  see 
no  harm  in  the  trade  myself.  But  the  gossip  was 
that  he  had  flown  the  Peruvian  flag  and  emptied 
whole  islands,  though  I  never  believed  a  word  of 
it  myself.  It  was  re-markable,  too,  how  he  kep 
his  people,  and  how  they  looked  up  to  him,  which 
wouldn't  have  been  the  case  if  he  had  been  like 
they  represented.  There  was  John  Rau,  the  mate, 
a  bullet-headed  Belgian,  who  used  to  walk  just 
like  he  did  and  copy  all  his  little  ways  slavish, 
reading  the  cyclopediar,  too,  and  stopping  at  R  from 
discipline.  And  Lum,  the  China  cook,  a  freak  of 
a  fellar,  with  coal-black  hair  all  round  his  head 
like  a  girl's,  and  who'd  out-Coe  Coe  till  you'd 
split.  The  rest  of  the  crew  was  just  the  usual 
thing — Rotumah  boys,  an  Highwayman  or  two,  and 
some  Nieues — sometimes  the  same,  sometimes  dif 
ferent — like  on  any  island  vessel. 
166 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


It  was  some  time  before  Captain  Coe  got  on  to 
the  Tweedies,  or  Alethea,  as  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
say,  for  nobody  ever  took  no  particular  stock  in 
the  /j£-Tweedie.  He  ran  acrost  her  first  when  he 
was  ashore  doctoring  some  of  his  native  friends, 
and  handing  out  pain-killer  and  salts  unstinted. 
They  walked  home  together  to  the  Mission  house, 
standing  a  long  time  at  the  door,  and  he  talking 
with  his  hat  off.  He  must  have  been  well  brought 
up  and  used  to  meeting  ladies,  for  anybody  could 
tell  by  her  face  that  she  was  pleased.  She  didn't 
seem  the  least  bit  eager  to  let  him  go,  and  once 
she  took  his  Tahiti  hat  and  held  it  in  both  her 
hands  like  she  would  prevent  him.  And  he  didn't 
seem  to  want  to  go  neither,  though  he  wrastled  for 
his  hat,  very  perlite  and  gay,  and  I  could  see  the 
glisten  of  her  white  teeth  through  the  spyglass. 

The  next  day  he  called  in  state,  with  the  skull 
of  a  shark  in  a  silk  handkerchief,  and  a  man  carry 
ing  a  crate  of  onions.  Oh,  it  may  sound  common 
to  you,  but  it's  like  sending  flowers  to  your  lady 
love  in  Puna  Punou,  and  I've  seen  a  year  pass 
without  the  sight  of  one!  I  guess  he  walked  in 
on  velvet,  and  it  is  certain  he  stayed  nigh  two  hours, 
for  I  timed  him  myself  from  the  deck  of  the  Ran 
som — the  beach  being  a  great  place  to  take  notice, 
as  I  have  said  already — and  what  was  our  feelings 
when  next  Sunday  the  captain  marched  into  church 
— yes,  sir — in  crisp  new  pan  jammers  and  a  polka- 
167 


WILD   JUSTICE 


dot  neckerchief;  and  I'm  blest  if  John  Rau  wasn't 
there,  too,  likewise  polka-dotted;  and  that  there 
Chinaman  tagging  along  behind,  rigged  the  same, 
only  with  earrings  extra,  and  taking  a  back  seat 
out  of  respeck!  Afterwards  they  all  went  up  to 
the  Mission  house  in  a  body,  Tweedie  jumping  in 
with  an  address,  and  everybody  singing  except  the 
Chinaman,  who  was  made  to  stop! 

You  mustn't  think  for  a  minute  that  we  traders 
knew  the  missionary  or  that  he  knew  us,  or  that 
the  beach  took  any  part  in  this  except  at  a  distance. 
There's  no  love  lost  between  missionaries  and  trad 
ers.  That's  what  made  it  so  strange  to  see  Captain 
Coe  going  the  way  he  did,  and  taking  up  with 
all  that  nigger-loving  and  "  Johnny,  how's  your 
soul  ? "  We  could  only  see  one  reason,  and  that 
was  Alethea  Tweedie;  and  the  betting  was  about 
even  whether  he'd  pull  it  off  or  not.  But  if  we 
didn't  talk  to  the  Tweedies,  I  guess  there  was 
mighty  little  that  went  on  there  we  didn't  know  of 
— whether  it  was  turtle  steak  for  breakfast,  or  the 
tiff  they  had  about  her  wearing  too  gauzy  a  dress 
at  the  party  Coe  gave  aboard  the  Peep  o'  Day. 

He  did  it  up  in  style,  with  bunting  and  Chinese 
lanterns  and  the  king,  and  afterwards  there  was 
fireworks.  Oh,  my,  yes!  a  regular  blow-out,  with 
the  crew  in  new  jumpers  and  two  boatloads  of 
flowers  and  moso'oil  We  all  asked  one  another 
where  it  was  going  to  end,  what  with  the  picnic 
168 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


next  day,  and  him  always  at  the  Mission  house. 
But  we  might  have  saved  our  breath,  as  far  as  any 
scandal  was  concerned,  for,  instead  of  up  stick  and 
away,  with  the  lady  locked  in  his  cabin,  like  some 
of  the  beach  had  fondly  hoped,  what  did  Coe  do 
but  turn  missionary  himself !  Got  religion,  by  God ! 
till  you  couldn't  have  known  him  for  the  same 
master  mariner;  while  John  Rau  and  Lum,  not  to 
be  behindhand  neither,  cavorted  into  the  holy  swim 
with  a  whoop  and  a  bang!  The  captain  went  off 
terrific — like  everything  he  did — making  Billy 
Jones's  cousin  marry  his  wife,  and  Peter  Extrum 
marry  his;  and  there  was  more  half-caste  baptizing 
and  squealing  and  certificating  than  I  remember 
since  the  tidal  wave  of  Eighty-one ! 

Coe  put  it  all  down  to  conviction  and  a  change 
of  heart,  but  anybody  could  see  it  was  Alethea 
Tweedie  who  was  his  religion.  When  he  prayed, 
which  he  used  to  do  tremendous,  it  was  all  the 
time  to  Mrs.  Tweedie ;  and  when  he  said  the  king 
dom  of  heaven,  you  knew  mighty  well  that  to  him 
it  was  the  coral  Mission  house  on  the  hill.  He  put 
her  on  a  pedestal  a  mile  high,  and  kep  her  at  the 
top  by  worshiping  so  hard  at  the  bottom.  I  guess 
she  couldn't  have  got  off  without  stepping  all  over 
him,  and  was  just  forced  to  be  a  saint  whether 
she  wanted  to  or  no.  Not  but  what  she  was  as 
good  as  gold,  and  a  pattern  for  any  young  white 
woman  to  go  by,  but  her  eyes  always  kind  of  melted 
12  169 


WILD   JUSTICE 


when  she  looked  at  Coe;  which  was  no  wonder, 
as  he  stood  six  feet  high  and  straight  as  a  dart, 
and  every  girl  in  the  island  was  wild  about  him; 
and  she  had  an  imperious  little  way  of  treating  him 
like  he  was  a  favorite  dog  who  she  was  proud  to 
show  off  being  master  of.  She  sent  him  her  canary, 
which  was  all  she  had  in  the  world  except  her 
clothes,  and  wrote  a  little  piece  how  it  would  sing 
to  him  at  sea  and  soothe  his  rugged  bosom. 

This  wasn't  all  he  got  neither,  for  she  was  a 
great  one  with  her  needle,  and  did  texts  better  nor 
a  Sailors'  Home.  Coe's  cabin  was  more  like  a 
little  Bethel  than  the  inside  of  a  trading  ship,  for 
there  was  six  of  them,  and  a  red  worsted  dog 
extra,  playing  with  a  blue  worsted  ball,  and  "  Jesus, 
Lover  of  my  Soul "  and  "  Where  is  my  Wandering 
Boy  To-night?"  The  biggest  joke  of  all  was  in 
the  trade  room,  where  there  was  "  Honesty  is  the 
Best  Policy,"  and  "  God  Sees  You  " ;  and  the  boys 
guyed  Coe  about  it  unmerciful  till  he  laid  out  Tom 
Dawlish  with  a  fancy  lamp,  and  said  a  gentleman 
ought  to  know  where  to  stop.  He  was  an  awful 
thin-skinned  kind  of  Christian  when  it  came  to  any 
remarks  being  passed  on  Mrs.  Tweedie,  and  Tom 
has  a  scar  there  to  this  day,  though  Coe  made  it 
up  to  him  afterwards  with  a  melodian  worth  nine 
dollars. 

But  Coe  wasn't  the  only  dog  around  the  Mission 
house.  Mrs.  Tweedie  started  up  another,  a  scamp 
170 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


of  a  chief  named  Afiola.  In  every  community 
there's  some  fellar  who's  at  the  root  of  all  the 
mischief  that  happens,  so  that  if  anybody  gets 
speared  of  a  dark  night,  or  a  girl  is  missing  from 
home,  you  know  just  where  to  look  for  who  done 
it.  In  Puna  Punou  you  looked  for  Afiola,  and  the 
chances  were  you'd  find  him  drunk  on  orange  beer 
and  laying  for  trouble  with  a  gun.  Oh,  yes,  in 
deed,  there  was  two  to  his  credit,  to  my  certain 
knowledge,  murders  both,  and  I'll  bet  a  ton  of 
shell  to  an  old  hat  besides  that  he  had  a  hand  in 
taking  off  the  Chinaman  at  Oa  Bay.  A  regular 
bad  lot,  and,  like  every  big  scalawag,  every  little 
scalawag  had  to  tail  along  with  him,  too,  for  com 
pany  and  mutual  protection;  so  his  houses  was  the 
kind  of  Bowery  of  Puna  Punou,  with  the  whalers 
going  to  him  to  buy  girls,  and  all  that. 

There  were  higher  chiefs  than  Afiola  in  the  set 
tlement — five  or  six  of  them,  at  least,  not  to  speak 
of  the  king — but  none  of  them  seemed  able  to  do  a 
thing  to  stop  him.  They  were  all  a  slack  lot  at  any 
time,  and  thought  excommunicating  him  enough, 
and  taking  away  his  communion  ticket.  I  guess\ 
he  had  been  out  of  the  church  for  a  matter  of  six 
years,  and,  as  I  said  before,  he  was  the  scandal 
of  the  place  and  a  terror.  They  were  all  dead 
scared  of  him,  that  was  the  truth,  and,  though  his 
following  was  small,  they  were  ugly  customers  and 
well  armed,  and  could  line  up  a  dozen  rifles  in  the 


WILD   JUSTICE 


twinkling  of  an  eye.  We  often  talked  it  over 
among  ourselves  how  to  break  the  gang  up,  but, 
as  he  always  left  the  whites  alone,  and  was  even 
a  favorite  with  the  worst,  it  ended  like  it  begun — 
in  smoke. 

This  Afiola  wasn't  of  any  particular  age,  because 
the  natives  don't  know  when  they  are  born,  and 
have  nothing  to  go  by  like  dates  and  sich.  I  sup 
pose  Afiola  was  somewheres  around  thirty,  for  he 
had  two  children,  about  eight  or  nine  each,  a  girl 
and  a  boy,  who  lived  with  him  in  his  house,  to 
gether  with  Talavao,  his  old  mother,  Sosofina,  his 
aunt,  Oloa,  his  uncle,  his  brother  Filipo,  and  a  raft 
of  other  blood  relations  whose  names  I  disremem- 
ber.  Like  all  the  chiefs  of  Puna  Punou,  Afiola 
was  a  tall,  fine-looking  man,  very  vigorous,  lordly, 
and  pleasant  spoken,  and  if  it  weren't  for  his  pock 
marked  face  and  the  wickedest  eyes  I  ever  saw  in 
a  man's  head,  you  would  have  said  he  was  a  perfect 
gentleman,  and  handsome,  as  Kanakas  go.  I  had 
never  had  a  bit  of  trouble  with  him  myself,  and 
whenever  I  put  business  in  his  way  he  had  always 
come  down  prompt  with  pigs  and  mats  and  masoa. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  took  any  notice  of 
the  Tweedies,  not  going  to  church,  and  always 
busy  raising  a  little  hell  somewheres.  But  when 
it  came,  it  came  with  a  bang  and  no  mistake,  and, 
my  stars,  if  he  didn't  pull  in  the  slack !  He  made 
up  to  the  Mission  house  like  he  was  their  long-lost 
172 


CAPTAIN  ELIJAH   COE 


brother;  threw  fits  of  reformation  till  they  took 
him  back  into  church  membership  again;  and  not 
a  blessed  day  passed  but  it  was  pigs  or  chickens  or 
sugar  cane  or  pineapples  at  the  Mission-house  door, 
and  please,  might  their  servant  Afiola  approach 
their  Excellencies!  It  was  as  good  as  a  play  to 
see  the  rascal  winding  them  around  his  little  finger 
and  doing  injured  innocent  on  their  front  stoop. 
To  hear  him  gas,  you'd  think  there  was  a  con 
spiracy  to  run  him  out  of  Fale  a  Lupo;  and  even 
when  he  owned  up  to  some  of  his  misdeeds,  it  was 
like  a  compliment  to  the  Tweedies  for  having 
yanked  in  such  a  black  sheep.  I  read  somewheres 
that  the  road  to  success  is  to  trade  on  people's 
weaknesses,  and  the  soft  spot  with  the  Tweedies 
was  their  desire  to  make  a  thundering  success  and 
leave  all  their  predecessors  in  the  soup.  After 
having  captured  the  chief  white  sinner,  Elijah  Coe, 
they  were  now  hauling  in  the  boss  brown  one, 
Afiola,  and  I  guess  they  felt  as  pleased  as  a  fellar 
who's  bought  a  ton  of  shell  for  a  condemned  army 
musket. 

My,  but  they  were  good  to  that  man,  forever 
inviting  him  to  breakfast  or  that,  and  sending  for 
him  first  thing  if  they  were  in  a  fix!  It  was  all 
Afiola  this,  and  Afiola  that;  and  he  got  texts,  too, 
from  Mrs.  Tweedie,  and  red  worsted  dogs,  and 
"  God  Bless  Our  Home."  By  the  time  they  had 
engineered  him  into  shoes  and  pants,  no  one  daring 

m 


WILD   JUSTICE 


to  laugh  for  fear  he'd  shoot  them,  they  promoted 
him  deacon,  and  put  him  on  the  committee  for  re- 
roofing  the  church.  Of  all  mutton-headed  pro 
ceedings,  I  never  saw  the  like,  specially  as  he 
hoodwinked  them  right  along,  and  acted  worse, 
even,  than  before.  You  can  imagine  Captain  Coe's 
feelings  when,  rounding  up  a  three  months'  cruise, 
he  found  this  six-foot-three  of  black  devil  and 
hypocrite  snugged  in  the  Mission  house  like  a 
maggot  in  a  breadfruit.  They  say  he  went  on 
awful,  speaking  out  the  truth  before  them  all,  and 
daring  Afiola  to  deny  it.  But  Mrs.  Tweedie  she 
got  him  outside  on  the  veranda,  walking  up  and 
down  with  her  arm  through  his,  and  pleading  and 
going  on  and  begging  to  beat  the  band.  It  shows 
the  power  she  had  over  him,  that  at  last  he  went 
in  and  asked  Afiola's  pardon,  and  the  next  day 
sent  him  a  case  of  kerosene  by  way  of  reparation. 
I  suppose  if  she  had  told  him  to  go  on  his  knees 
he  would  have  done  it,  being  that  crazy  to  please 
her  in  everything. 

On  second  thoughts,  however,  and  after  hearing 
how  Afiola  had  been  kicking  up,  he  went  to  the 
king  and  tried  to  stiffen  him  to  take  a  stand  against 
Afiola,  volunteering  to  do  the  job  himself,  if  sup 
ported,  and  proposing  to  exile  the  fellar  to  Maka- 
tea,  and  disperse  the  rest  of  the  gang  about  the 
Group  gratis  in  the  Peep  o'  Day.  He  said  other 
wise  he  was  afraid  to  leave  Puna  Punou  with  such 

'74 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


a  scoundrel  loose,  and  threatened  to  write  to  Syd 
ney  for  a  man-of-war.  But  Maunga  the  king  was 
a  saphead  and  a  coward,  and  he  couldn't  see  it 
Coe's  way  at  all ;  and  not  having  the  sense  to  keep 
his  mouth  shut,  what  does  he  do  but  traipse  around 
the  settlement,  telling  everybody  what  the  captain 
said  and  wanted. 

After  that  the  Mission-house  door  was  shut  in 
Coe's  face,  and  when  Mrs.  Tweedie  passed  him  on 
the  road  it  was  with  her  pretty  head  in  the  air,  and 
not  looking.  This  nearly  broke  the  captain's  heart, 
and  if  you've  ever  seen  a  dog  as  has  been  kicked 
out  by  his  master,  you  can  picture  Coe  for  your 
self.  He  got  very  down  and  miserable,  and  talked 
some  of  chucking  the  Group  altogether  and  going 
back  to  the  Kingsmills,  or  even  further,  and  how 
Henderson  and  Macfarlane  were  going  to  put  on 
a  steamer  and  run  us  all  out.  He  tied  up  the 
Peep  o'  Day  at  a  hundred  and  forty  dollars  a  week 
and  nothing  coming  in,  making  the  excuse  she  was 
foul  and  the  copper  needing  cleaning;  and  when 
you  saw  nothing  doing  and  asked  why,  he  flared 
up  and  said  you  could  go  to  hell!  And  all  this, 
if  you  please,  for  the  privilege  of  seeing  Afiola 
sailing  up  to  the  Mission  house  and  being  honored 
guest,  and  Mrs.  Tweedie  smiling  her  prettiest,  vice 
Elijah  Coe,  fired !  We  fully  thought  he'd  backslide 
onto  square-face  arid  female  society,  but,  if  any 
thing,  he  grew  more  missionary  than  ever,  and 

175 


WILD   JUSTICE 


nearly  lammed  the  life  out  of  Freddy  Rice  for 
speaking  disrespectful  of  the  Virgin  Mary!  You 
see,  Coe's  religion,  being  as  it  was  Mrs.  Tweedie, 
didn't  make  no  proper  distinction  between  sects, 
and  he  just  stood  up  for  anybody  who  had  his 
name  in  the  Bible! 

Then  thinking,  I  dessay,  that  absence  makes  the 
heart  grow  fonder,  he  went  to  sea  again  and  put 
in  a  spell  of  two  months  about  the  Group;  and 
when  he  got  back  he  dressed  up  in  his  best  with 
a  red  silk  handkerchief  around  his  neck,  sailor  fash 
ion,  and  a  crimson  sash  and  patent-leather  shoes, 
and  the  rest  of  him  white  drill,  and  went  a-calling 
on  the  Mission  house  to  see  if  he  couldn't  break 
into  society  again.  But  there  Was  a  wicked  streak 
in  Mrs.  Tweedie,  for  all  her  pretty  face  and  golden 
hair,  and  being  too  good  a  woman  to  love  anybody 
but  her  husband,  she  found  a  queer  kind  of  satisfac 
tion  in  hating  Coe,  or  pretending  like  she  did,  and 
driving  him  half-mad  with  the  things  she  said  to 
him.  She  regularly  led  on  the  captain  to  admit  he 
loved  her,  and  then  jumped  on  him  with  both  her 
little  feet  for  saying  it,  till  the  poor  fellar  stumbled 
out  of  the  house  feeling  he  had  disgraced  himself 
awful  and  was  never  to  come  back  no  more. 

She  wrote  him  letters  afterwards  on  scented  pink 

paper,  which  made  him  spend  days  and  days  with 

his  head  leaning  on  the  cabin  table,  wanting  the 

worsted  dog  back,  and  the  canary,  and  saying  she 

176 


CAPTAIN  ELIJAH   COE 


would  tell  her  husband;  and  then  saying  he  might 
keep  them  and  she  wouldn't!  If  he  had  treated 
her  just  like  a  Kanaka  girl  who  was  dead  stuck 
on  him,  I  guess  he  would  have  found  out  that 
women  are  much  the  same,  whether  with  golden 
hair  or  coal-black,  and  that  there  is  much  the  same 
colored  devil  in  every  one  of  them.  But  to  Coe, 
Alethea  Tweedie  wasn't  no  human  being  at  all, 
but  an  angel  straight  from  heaven,  and  to  think  the 
angel  hated  him  was  almost  more  than  he  could 
bear. 

He  turned  crankier  than  ever,  working  off  steam 
on  Rau  and  Ah  Lum,  with  twenty-five  cents  for 
every  swear,  and  nothing  at  night  but  hymns.  But 
I  guess  Rau  and  the  China  boy  would  have  gone 
on  their  knees  and  kowtowed  to  a  sting  ray  if  Coe 
had  told  them  to,  for  they  didn't  have  no  more 
wills  of  their  own  than  a  child  unborn,  and  every 
thing  he  said,  went.  If  he  had  turned  pirate,  they 
would  have  followed  him  just  as  meek,  and  would 
have  scuttled  ships  and  made  passengers  walk 
planks  with  the  same  devotion  and  zeal  to  please 
him! 

But  all  this  was  by  the  way,  so  far  as  it  availed 
the  captain  with  Mrs.  Tweedie,  who  passed  him  on 
the  road  as  cold  as  ever,  and  received  the  swear- 
money  disdainful,  and  never  said  "thank  you" 
for  it,  though  there  was  eighteen  dollars  in  the 
bag  and  the  biggest  share  Coe's.  Afiola  himself 
177 


WILD    JUSTICE 


had  been  getting  out  of  favor  for  two  months. 
He  couldn't  manage  to  be  deacon  of  the  church 
one  day,  and  the  next  pirating  along  the  coast  mad 
drunk  on  orange  beer;  besides,  the  Tweedies  were 
getting  to  talk  native  now,  and  got  more  the  hang 
of  what  was  going  on  around  them.  So  they  give 
Afiola  a  sort  of  drumhead  court-martial,  and 
bounced  him  unanimous,  and  all  the  pent-up  devil 
try  of  the  man  came  out  of  him  at  one  lick,  like 
touching  off  a  dynamite  cartridge.  Tweedie 
preached  against  him  from  the  pulpit;  the  other 
chiefs,  slow  as  they  had  been  to  move  before,  now 
waked  up  a  bit,  and  there  was  a  general  feeling 
in  the  respectable  part  of  the  native  community 
that  he  was  pushing  things  too  far.  You  see,  he 
had  named  one  of  his  pigs  after  the  king,  and  there 
was  more  scandal  over  that  than  for  all  the  crimes 
he  had  been  guilty  of;  and  there  was  a  razor 
backed  yaller  one  for  Tweedie,  and  an  old  sow 
for  the  queen,  and  porkers  for  the  princes,  and  he 
passed  insulting  remarks  on  them  till  the  Kanakas 
went  wild — those  that  weren't  of  Afiola's  own  fam 
ily,  I  mean ;  and  Afiola  would  laugh  and  laugh  till 
his  great  pocked  face  grew  a  dirty  crimson,  laying 
on  a  mat  with  a  Winchester  beside  him,  and  snig 
gering  as  they'd  bring  him  orange  beer  in  a  cala 
bash. 

I  guess  he  thought  he'd  wind  up  by  pulling  off 
the  biggest  thing  yet,  for  he  had  a  kind  of  pride 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


of  wickedness  in  him,  and  gloried  in  being  the  bad 
man  of  Puna  Punou.  He  wanted  to  top  it  all  now, 
and  do  something  that  tremendous  that  it  would 
shake  the  whole  island  from  Fale  a  Lupo  to  Dia 
mond  Rock.  Anyway,  whatever  he  thought  or 
didn't  think,  what  he  did  was  to  waylay  Mrs. 
Tweedie  one  morning  about  ten,  as  she  was  going 
over  to  visit  the  native  pastor's  wife,  who  was  sick ; 
and,  tying  her  hands  and  feet  together  with  sinnet, 
he  put  her  in  a  hammock  and  carried  her  off  up 
the  mountain;  and  this,  if  you  please,  in  open  day 
light,  with  scores  of  people  looking  on,  while  she 
screamed  and  struggled  and  fought,  and  they  help 
less  to  do  anything  against  the  line  of  Afiola's  rifles 
— and  Tweedie  himself  not  four  hundred  yards 
away,  organizing  a  Y.M.C.A.  for  untattooed  boys, 
and  explaining  how  they  was  to  play  basket  ball, 
and  learn  arithmetic  nights! 

When  I  heard  the  news,  which  was  right  off  and 
the  moment  after  it  happened,  I  had  only  one  idea 
in  my  head,  and  that  was  to  reach  Captain  Coe 
as  fast  as  the  paddles  could  race  me  off  to  the 
schooner.  It  is  in  them  moments  that  the  strong 
man  looms  up  like  a  mountain  and  one's  cry  is  for 
a  leader.  But  it  seemed  for  a  spell  like  it  was  a 
knock-out  blow  for  Coe,  and  that  he  couldn't  grap 
ple  with  the  thing  at  all,  moaning  and  grinding  his 
teeth,  and  tearing  the  red-dotted  handkerchief  off 
his  neck  like  it  choked  him.  When  I  tried  to  talk, 
179 


JUSTICE 


he  swore  at  me  terrible,  saying  he  wanted  to  think, 
by  God!  and  I  was  to  shut  my  bloody  face;  and 
ordering  the  mate  and  the  Chinaman  into  the 
lazarette  to  get  out  the  arms.  There  was  a  big 
store  of  them,  which  the  pair  got  out  on  their  hands 
and  knees,  the  place  being  cramped  and  low  and 
the  guns  furthest  in ;  and  they  broke  open  boxes  of 
cartridges  on  the  cabin  floor  till  they  ran  all  over. 
Then  Coe  ordered  the  whaleboat  cleared  and  went 
ashore  with  nigh  all  hands,  every  one  of  them  with 
a  loaded  rifle,  and  he  with  a  twelve-bore  gun ;  and 
if  you  ever  saw  the  light  of  hell  in  a  man's  eyes, 
it  was  Coe  as  he  formed  us  up  on  the  beach  and 
headed  inland  in  a  crowd.  The  whole  settlement 
was  buzzing  like  a  hornet's  nest,  and  they  were 
beating  a  wooden  drum  in  front  of  the  king's 
house,  and  everybody  was  running  every  which 
way,  telling  the  news,  and  how  Mrs.  Tweedie  had 
been  carried  off  by  Afiola,  and  all  screaming  out 
at  once,  like  natives  do  when  excited. 

Finding  Afiola  would  be  about  as  easy  as  the 
needle  in  the  haystack,  and  the  crews  of  a  hundred 
Peep  o'  Days,  and  all  the  warriors  of  Fale  a  Lupo 
besides,  couldn't  have  tracked  and  cornered  him  up 
the  mountain.  I  thought  Coe  was  acting  like  a 
hot-headed  crazy  fool  to  try,  for  they  were  bound 
to  see  him  first,  and  could  always  hide  if  we  got 
too  close,  or  fight  if  need  be,  with  all  the  points  of 
the  game  in  their  favor.  But  that  wasn't  what 
180 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


he  meant  to  do,  not  he,  but  surrounded  Afiola's 
two  houses,  and  took  out  everybody  in  them — 
Talavao  his  aunt,  Oloa  his  uncle,  Filipo  his  broth 
er  (who  was  sick  on  a  mat),  and  Afiola's  two 
children,  Mali  and  Popo,  and  a  raft  of  men  and 
women,  to  the  number  of  twenty  or  more  all  told. 
They  were  scared  blue  at  the  sight  of  the  cocked 
rifles,  and  held  up  their  hands  like  lambs  for  the 
Chinaman  to  rope  them,  which  he  did  like  lashing 
a  chest  and  about  as  tender,  the  tears  streaming 
down  the  women's  faces.  But  there  wasn't  a  spark 
of  compassion  in  Elijah  Coe,  and  he  never  give 
them  a  thought. 

He  was  at  a  white  heat,  and  his  finger  was  just 
itching  on  the  trigger  of  his  gun,  and  he  never 
started  for  the  beach  till  all  the  Bowery  was  crack 
ling  in  smoke  and  flame.  Not  that  our  eighteen 
or  twenty  was  the  whole  of  Afiola's  family  in  the 
settlement.  I  guess  there  was  several  hundreds  of 
them  altogether,  taking  it  fine  and  large,  retainers, 
hangers-on,  and  connections  of  one  kind  and  an 
other;  but  Coe's  boldness  took  them  by  surprise, 
and  not  being  in  the  secret  of  Mrs.  Tweedie's 
carrying  off,  they  weren't  prepared  or  anything. 
But  even  in  the  time  we  were  tying  up  the  prison 
ers  they  began  to  turn  ugly  and  bunch  together 
and  hoot,  and  all  the  way  back  to  the  beach  it 
was  touch  and  go  whether  they  wouldn't  rush  us. 

Not  a  soul  durst  ask  Coe  what  he  meant  to  do 
181 


JUSTICE 


as  we  pitched  into  the  water  and  shoved  off,  him 
sitting  there  so  grim  and  fierce,  with  his  eyes 
smoldering  in  his  head  like  coals;  but  there  was 
no  sound  but  the  straining  of  the  rowlocks,  and  a 
whimper  or  two  from  the  women,  and  the  swish 
and  gurgle  of  the  water  along  the  keel.  I'll  never 
forget  that  boat  ride  if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred; 
the  drums  rolling  and  rerolling  around  the  bay, 
and  that  strange  humming  of  voices  behind  us  like 
the  wind  in  the  rigging  of  a  ship,  and  Coe  and  the 
Kanakas  and  the  Chinaman  and  John  Rau  and  the 
men  pulling.  But  as  for  Coe's  plan,  we  weren't 
long  kept  waiting  for  what  it  was.  The  prisoners 
were  bundled  into  the  ship's  waist,  with  Lum  to 
stand  over  them,  while  the  mate  got  out  the  kedge 
and  brought  the  schooner  broadside  on  to  the 
mountain.  Then  they  bent  a  noose  and  ran  up 
old  Oloa  between  the  masts.  It  was  no  fancy 
hanging  with  a  drop  calculated  to  his  height,  but 
just  the  old-fashioned  kind,  slow  and  awful,  and 
if  the  steward  hadn't  come  round  with  a  tray  of 
glasses  and  some  square-face  I  guess  I  would  have 
just  sunk  right  down  where  I  was.  The  crew 
made  one  panic-stricken  gallop  for  the  side,  and 
popped  over,  nobody  trying  to  stop  them,  though 
Rau  asked,  quite  calm,  was  he  to  shoot,  and  the 
captain  said  No.  The  Nieue  steward  was  the  only 
one  that  didn't  go,  but  crouched  down  in  the  scup 
pers  with  his  teeth  chattering. 
182 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


Then  Coe  leaned  over  the  rail  and  talked  to  the 
prisoners  in  the  waist ;  told  them  that  he  was  going 
to  string  up  one  an  hour,  children  and  all,  till  Mrs. 
Tweedie  was  brought  back  safe;  and  he  ordered 
Lum  to  cast  loose  one  of  the  old  women  so  that 
she  might  swim  ashore  and  carry  the  news.  My, 
if  she  wasn't  over  that  rail  like  lightning,  and 
striking  out  for  home  with  her  skinny  arms!  Coe 
knew  mighty  well  that  Afiola  had  a  string  of  peo 
ple  up  the  mountain  keeping  him  informed  of  every 
thing  that  happened — the  Kanaka  telegraph,  we 
used  to  call  it.  Then,  besides,  up  there  they  could 
see  for  miles,  and  Coe  had  kedged  the  schooner 
acrost  the  fairway  so  that  Afiola  might  reckonize 
his  relations  in  the  rigging.  You  might  wonder  that 
such  an  unmitigated  black  villain  would  care  what 
Coe  did,  so  long  as  he  had  his  wicked  way  with 
Mrs.  Tweedie,  and  a  whole  trackless  mountain  to 
lose  himself  in;  but  there's  an  awful  soft  streak 
in  Kanakas  for  their  own  blood,  and  we  had  his 
whole  family  in  our  hands,  not  to  speak  of  the 
two  kids.  It  seemed  almost  like  a  waste  of  lives 
to  look  up  and  see  not  a  speck,  or  the  least  sign 
whatever,  that  was  hid  under  the  tree  tops,  and 
it  was  hard  to  convince  oneself  that  Coe  was  do 
ing  the  right  thing,  and  that  from  those  rocky 
cliffs  there  was  sharp  Kanaka  eyes  taking  us  all 
in,  with  Alethea  Tweedie  tied  hand  and  foot,  and 
Afiola  in  a  sweat  about  his  children. 

183 


WILD    JUSTICE 


The  captain  sat  on  a  chair  at  the  forrard  end 
of  the  house,  smoking  a  cigar,  and  occasionally 
searching  the  woods  with  his  binoculars.  There 
was  a  stack  of  loaded  rifles  beside  him,  and  a 
keg  of  dynamite  with  a  loose  lid  to  it.  Some  of 
the  sticks  had  touch-and-go  fuses  to  them,  ready 
to  throw  if  they  tried  boarding;  and  sometimes  he 
would  take  out  his  watch  and  look  at  it  hard,  and 
every  time  he  looked  the  people  in  the  waist  would 
set  up  a  kind  of  a  wail.  At  one  o'clock  we  ran 
up  Filipo,  Afiola's  brother,  and  settled  down  to 
another  spell  of  waiting.  Somewheres  along  of 
three  bells  we  saw  them  getting  a  boat  out  by 
Pita's  house,  and  lo  and  behold !  it  was  Tweedie, 
with  the  native  pastor  and  a  divinity  student  named 
Henry  to  pull  him.  When  they  were  close  enough 
to  talk,  he  fell  on  his  knees  in  the  boat,  though  it 
was  half  full  of  bilge  and  slopped  all  over  him; 
and  he  besought  Captain  Coe,  by  all  that  was  holy, 
to  stop  murdering  the  innocent,  and  rattled  on  fast 
and  scolding  like  he  was  in  the  pulpit.  We  was 
to  leave  it  to  God,  he  said,  and  went  on  like  we 
was  worse  nor  Afiola,  the  pitiful  hound,  like  it 
wasn't  his  own  wife  we  was  doing  our  damnedest 
to  save. 

Captain  Coe  let  him  have  his  say,  and  then  he 
leaned  over  the  ship's  side,  holding  to  the  star 
board  shrouds  with  one  hand  and  taking  the  cigar 
out  of  his  mouth  with  the  other,  and  told  him, 
184 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


with  a  most  deliberate  spit,  as  how  he  was  going 
on  with  one  every  hour  till  Mrs.  Tweedie  was 
brought  back  safe  and  sound,  and  when  he  used 
up  them  he  had  aboard,  how  he  was  going  to  land 
for  more.  He  didn't  speak  it  particular  loud,  and 
you  might  have  thought  he  was  talking  what  a 
hot  day  it  was ;  but  there  was  that  in  his  voice  I've 
never  heard  before  or  since,  and  you  knew  he'd 
live  right  up  to  every  word  he  said.  I  guess  the 
pastor  and  the  student  understood  a  little  English, 
for  when  Coe  finished  they  laid  on  to  their  oars 
like  mad,  and  headed  the  old  sieve  for  shore  again, 
Tweedie  in  the  bilge  and  still  protesting. 

At  two  o'clock  we  turned  off  Sosofma,  Afiola's 
aunt.  We  now  had  three  aloft,  and  as  we  rolled 
gently  broadside  on  to  the  swell  they'd  swing  to 
gether  and  swing  apart  till  you  didn't  care  to  look 
at  them.  That  hour  from  two  to  three  was  the 
very  longest  I  ever  spent  in  my  life.  It  was  the 
hottest  time  of  day  and  the  sun  beat  down  unmer 
ciful,  the  pitch  running  in  the  seams,  and  the  awn 
ings  being  stripped  off  to  better  fight  the  ship,  if 
need  be.  The  steward  passed  round  sardines  and 
buttered  biscuit,  and  I  recollect  the  Chinaman 
wolfing  his  right  out  of  the  can  and  tipping  it 
cornerwise  to  drink  the  ile.  Bar  Coe,  he  was  the 
coolest  customer  of  the  lot,  which  was  the  more 
remarkable,  as  he  was  a  mild-mannered  man  ordi 
narily,  given  to  playing  the  China  fiddle  to  him- 
185 


WILD   JUSTICE 


self,  and  very  obliging  if  you  wanted  fresh  yeast 
or  the  way  he  curried  pigeon.  Rau,  the  Belgian, 
with  his  hairy  arms  and  stubby  figure,  struck  one 
somehow  as  being  more  in  his  element  in  so  wild 
a  business,  and  you  took  his  calm  for  granted,  like 
a  soldier  serving  a  gun  and  doing  what  he's  told. 
If  Coe  had  ordered  him  to  set  off  the  dynamite 
and  blow  up  the  ship,  he  would  have  said  "  Aye, 
aye,  sir ! "  and  obeyed,  respectful  and  willing,  like 
the  first-class  seaman  and  navigator  he  was.  He 
had  served  in  the  Belgian  navy,  and  the  habit  had 
stuck  to  him.  But  in  all  of  us,  after  all — me  and 
Lum  and  John  Rau  and  the  Nieue  steward — it  was 
Coe's  spirit  that  had  raised  us  to  this  pitch,  and 
he  had  blown  a  little  of  his  own  breath  into  every 
one  of  us.  We  were  all  Elijah  Goes  that  day,  and 
it  was  only  afterwards  it  came  over  us  how  differ 
ent  we  had  acted  from  our  proper  selves. 

Well,  as  I  said,  it  was  drawing  toward  six  bells, 
and  we  were  keyed  up  tremendous,  as  we  might 
expect  to  see  the  result  of  our  work  now  any  min 
ute;  and  it  was  a  shuddering  thing  to  think  of 
sending  up  another,  and  him  a  child.  We  all 
watched  Coe  out  of  the  corner  of  our  eye  as  he 
went  on  smoking  his  cigar,  and  every  time  he  took 
out  his  watch  and  looked  at  it  it  seemed  like  my 
heart  stopped  beating. 

"  Three  o'clock,  boys !  "  he  says,  rising  business 
like  from  his  chair,  while  Lum  looked  up  expect- 
186 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


ant,  and  my  gizzard  seemed  to  shrink  inside  me. 
"  Three  o'clock,  boys !  " 

He  hadn't  no  more  nor  got  the  words  out  of  his 
mouth  when  Rau  ripped  out  there  was  a  canoe 
coming  off,  and  we  all  ran  pellmell  for  the  rail. 
Sure  enough,  there  was  an  outrigger  aiming 
straight  for  us,  and  the  fellar  in  it  was  bent 
double  and  paddling  that  fast  that  the  water 
spurted  at  the  bow  like  it  was  a  race.  When  he 
got  within  a  cable's  length  he  stopped,  and  waved 
something  he  had  in  his  hand,  and  shouted  a  lot 
of  stuff  we  couldn't  make  head  or  tail  of.  Coe 
made  motions  to  him  to  come  nearer,  and  Rau 
and  me  did  the  same,  till  the  fellar  got  back  some 
thing  of  his  nerve,  paddling  with  one  hand  and 
holding  the  little  board  aloft  in  the  other  (like  he 
might  a  flag  of  truce),  and  venturing  toward  us 
slower  and  slower,  till  at  last  Coe  reached  down 
and  took  the  thing  from  him  standing  up. 

It  was  a  slab  of  fresh-cut  fuafua,  about  a  foot 
long  by  three  inches  wide,  and  on  it,  written,  as  I 
heard  afterwards,  in  blood  and  spit  and  gunpowder, 
was  a  message  from  Mrs.  Tweedie  herself — not 
many  words  on  it,  and  them  printed,  for  she  only 
had  a  pointed  stick  by  way  of  a  pen,  but  saying 
as  how  she  was  unharmed  and  was  being  brought 
back  fast,  and  please,  he  wasn't  to  trice  up  any 
more  of  Afiola's  family. 

The  captain  read  it  aloud  to  us  about  a  dozen 

187 


WILD   JUSTICE 


times,  and  then,  his  face  working  so  he  couldn't 
speak  no  more,  he  gripped  hands  with  me,  and 
then  with  John  Rau,  and  not  forgetting  the  Nieue 
steward,  and  then  he  went  down  the  forrard  ladder, 
and  I'm  blest  if  he  didn't  put  his  arm  round  the 
Chink,  and  burst  out  sobbing — yes,  sir,  like  a  great 
overwrought  girl,  sitting  on  the  tool  chest,  limp 
as  a  rag,  and  wiping  his  eyes  with  the  cuff  of  his 
blue-striped  pan  jammers,  the  Chinaman,  patting 
him  like  he  might  a  dog,  saying,  "  Poor  captain ! 
Never  you  mind,  captain!  She  all  lite  now,  cap 
tain,"  while  the  prisoners  broke  out  in  a  big  gabble 
of  how  they  were  saved,  and  piped  up  with  a  hymn. 
He  wasn't  the  man  to  take  anything  for  granted, 
however,  and  after  he  had  sort  of  pulled  himself 
together  and  got  his  second  wind,  so  to  speak, 
he  cast  loose  a  couple  more  with  a  message  that  he 
had  to  have  a  letter  on  paper  from  Mrs.  Tweedie 
herself,  countersigned  by  the  king,  that  she  was 
at  home,  safe,  and  no  harm  done.  He  might  have 
saved  himself  the  trouble,  for  they  hadn't  been 
gone  ten  minutes  before  she  came  off  herself,  queen 
ing  it  in  the  stern  of  the  king's  great  alia,  seventy 
feet  long,  with  Tweedie  and  Maunga,  and  the 
princes,  and  eighty  men  chorusing  to  the  paddles, 
with  drums  aft,  and  a  young  boy  dancing  in  the 
bow  and  keeping  time  with  a  rifle.  Except  for  her 
paleness,  which  was  like  marble,  and  the  bloody 
marks  of  the  sinnet  on  her  pretty  wrists,  you 

188 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


wouldn't  have  taken  her  for  much  different  than 
usual ;  and  she  skipped  up  the  ladder  as  sprightly 
as  you  please,  and  made  a  bee  line  for  Elijah  Coe 
like  a  schoolgirl  running  to  her  pa  for  the  holi 
days. 

She  wanted  to  throw  herself  on  her  knees  and 
kiss  his  hands;  and  when  he  forced  her  up,  she 
flung  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him, 
saying  he  was  her  preserver,  and  how  he  had  saved 
her  from  worse  than  death,  and  so  overflowing 
and  grateful  and  outspoken  that  nobody  knew 
where  to  look,  least  of  all  the  captain,  who  turned 
all  colors,  and  couldn't  say  anything  but  "  You're 
welcome,"  like  a  ninny. 

We  cleared  a  little  space  for  Tweedie  to  pray  in, 
which  was  his  way  of  celebrating,  and  couldn't 
very  well  be  prevented,  and  the  king  followed  with 
a  speech  what  he'd  do  to  Afiola  when  he  caught 
him — the  tarnation  liar !  The  crew  came  off,  swim 
ming  in  ones  and  twos  to  beg  for  pardon,  and  the 
prisoners  were  unbound  and  given  three  crates  of 
biscuit  and  three  barrels  of  pork  and  some  boat 
sails  to  wrap  the  corpses  in,  and  there  was  more 
hurrah-boys  and  good  feeling  and  port  wine  in 
the  cabin  than  you  could  ever  have  thought  possi 
ble  under  the  circumstances. 

Was  that  all  ?    Well,  for  a  time  it  was,  Coe  slip 
ping  out  at  dawn  on  the  ebb  with  a  cargo  of 
189 


WILD   JUSTICE 


rapscallions  he  was  to  drop,  one  here,  one  there, 
all  around  the  Group,  we  having  no  further  use 
for  them  in  Puna  Punou. 

The  measles  struck  us  shortly  afterwards  in  a 
Tahiti  bark,  and  it  carried  off  a  sight  of  people, 
Afiola  included,  who  was  in  a  sort  of  armed  hiding 
on  the  other  side  of  the  island.  Tweedie,  too,  who 
had  always  been  a  complaining  whelp,  started 
up  a  cough  about  this  time,  and  died.  Of  course, 
this  wasn't  right  off,  but  spread  over  a  matter  of 
eighteen  months  or  more,  Coe  coming  and  going 
regular  in  the  Peep  o'  Day,  and  Mrs.  Tweedie 
more  blooming  than  ever. 

Coe  turned  up  from  Sydney,  where  he  had  gone 
for  a  general  refitting  and  overhaul,  just  as  Mrs. 
Tweedie  was  taking  her  passage  in  the  Olive 
Branch,  missionary  auxiliary  barkentine  for  Hono- 
lula.  None  of  the  saints  would  have  a  word  to 
say  to  him,  calling  him  "  the  man  of  blood,"  and 
ordering  him  off  the  ship,  as  he  stood  his  ground 
and  wouldn't  budge  even  when  the  anchor  was 
apeak  and  the  barkentine  under  steerage  way.  But 
he  kept  singing  out  for  her  while  they  tried  to 
hustle  him  over  the  side  and  into  his  boat,  and  the 
more  they  hustled  the  louder  he  shouted,  "  Mrs. 
Tweedie !  Mrs.  Tweedie ! "  till  at  last  she  heard 
him  in  her  cabin  below,  and  came  running  up,  smil 
ing,  and  arranging  her  hair  with  her  hands. 

It  was  a  tight  place  for  Coe,  having  to  do  his 
190 


CAPTAIN   ELIJAH   COE 


courting  while  they  were  moving  him  on  like  the 
police;  but,  for  all  that,  when  he  went  down  the 
ladder  it  was  with  Mrs.  Tweedie  with  him,  and 
they  pulled  ashore  and  were  married  by  the  Kanaka 
pastor,  and  went  a-honeymooning  in  the  Peep  o' 
Day,  bringing  up  in  Papiete  three  weeks  later,  to 
buy  her  some  clothes,  for  every  stitch  to  her  name 
was  beating  up  to  Honolula  in  the  Olive  Branch. 


MR.    BOB 

FAR  away  in  the  western  Pacific,  in  that  laby 
rinth  of  coral  reefs  and  low,  palm-rimmed  isles 
floating  between  the  blue  of  heaven  and  the  deeper 
blue  of  sea,  known  to  the  pa  jama-clad,  earringed 
traders  as  "  the  Group,"  and  to  the  outer  world 
as  Micronesia — here,  one  burning  morning  there 
arrived  a  visitor  from  "  Home,"  who  descended, 
not  from  some  tubby  bark  or  slant-masted  schoon 
er,  but  Godlike  from  the  glorious  stars  themselves 
— Christmas  Day! 

The  Rev.  Walter  Kirke  looked  out  moodily  from 
beneath  the  eaves  of  his  basket-work  house,  and  his 
heart  sank  as  he  gazed  across  the  sweltering  strip 
of  water,  twenty  miles  wide,  that  divided  the  island 
of  Apiang  from  its  neighbor,  Tarawa.  His  brother 
in  the  Lord  across  the  strait,  the  perpetually  un 
fortunate  Titcombe  (the  Rev.  J.  B.  Tracy  Tit- 
combe,  M.A.,  Cam.),  had  sent  in  a  proa  with  a 
message  of  such  urgency  and  need  that  delay,  let 
alone  refusal,  was  utterly  out  of  the  question. 

"  The  king  has  broken  all  his  promises,"  wrote 
Titcombe,  in  a  hand  illegible  from  distress  and 
agitation.  "  He  threatens  to  burn  the  new  church, 
192 


MR.    BOB 

flog  the  members,  and  spear  personally  the  leading 
lights  of  our  infant  congregation.  Yesterday,  on 
my  remonstrating  with  him,  he  gave  me  twenty- 
four  hours  to  leave  the  island,  calling  me  at  the 
same  time  a  sting  ray,  a  detached  jellyfish — a  white 
squid,  together  with  some  other  local  expressions 
of  a  highly  wounding  and  contemptuous  nature. 
The  tiny  fold  is  terrorized,  and  Thomas  Najibika, 
my  deacon  and  right-hand  man,  is  in  hourly  appre 
hension  of  a  massacre.  My  wife  and  little  Kenneth 
are  down  with  fever,  and  this,  together  with  my 
halting  knowledge  of  the  native  language,  has  put 
me  at  such  a  disadvantage  that  I  have  no  alterna 
tive  but  to  appeal  to  you.  For  Heaven's  sake, 
please  come  instantly  and  exert  yourself  on  my 
behalf,  or  else  we  may  lose  Tarawa  for  good,  and 
put  back  the  good  work  by  a  dozen  years." 

"  We'll  have  to  go,  dear,"  said  Kirke  to  his  pretty 
wife. 

"Yes,  we'll  have  to  go,"  she  assented  sadly. 

She  could  not  help  feeling  cross  with  the  Tit- 
combes  for  always  muddling  things — a  little  un 
justly,  perhaps — for  her  own  missionary  path  had 
ever  been  so  easy  and  untroubled.  Mrs.  Kirke  was 
a  woman  of  marked  beauty,  whose  sweet  imperi- 
ousness,  sympathy,  humor,  and  tact  made  her  the 
adored  of  the  islanders.  She  not  only  spoke  native 
well,  but  with  a  zest  and  sparkle,  a  silver  ripple  of 
irony,  ridicule,  and  good-fellowship  that  carried 

193 


WILD   JUSTICE 


everything  before  it.  No  kings  ever  bothered  Mrs. 
Kirke.  Even  the  redoubtable  Tembinok,  with  forty 
boats  full  of  armed  savages,  had  been  stemmed  in 
his  Napoleonic  career  and  turned  back  by  her  from 
his  projected  invasion  of  Apiang — presenting  the 
missionary's  wife,  on  his  departure,  with  a  gold- 
inlaid  Winchester  that  was  the  apple  of  his  eye. 

"  I  shall  make  Karaitch  smart  for  this !  "  she  said 
vindictively.  "  I  sha'n't  let  him  off  with  less  than 
twenty  tons  of  copra  for  my  girls'  school ;  and  he'll 
have  to  apologize,  too,  and  swear  on  a  shark's  head 
to  behave  for  a  year." 

"  We  can't  all  have  such  intrepid  little  wives," 
said  Kirke,  putting  his  arm  fondly  about  her.  Ex 
perience  had  shown  him  that  in  native  questions 
she  was  always  as  good  as  her  word,  and  it  was 
with  a  kind  of  proud  humility  he  conceded  her  the 
place  he  was  so  much  less  able  himself  to  fill.  He 
had  not  the  faintest  apprehensions  about  the  Tarawa 
matter.  Ada  would  bring  the  king  to  heel  in  fifteen 
minutes,  and  in  twenty  there  would  be  the  dawn 
of  a  new  peace,  with  stately  apologies,  gifts  of 
turtle  and  bonito  hooks,  endless  and  troublesomely 
idiomatic  compliments,  and  incidentally  a  little  fric 
tion  with  the  Titcombes,  who  would  certainly  re 
sent  being  saved  so  easily. 

No,  Kirke  wasn't  afraid  of  Karaitch.  Ada  would 
settle  Karaitch  out  of  hand.  What  he  dreaded  was 
that  twenty  miles  of  water  under  the  noonday  sun, 

194 


MR.   BOB 

and  the  problem  of  Daisy — Daisy,  their  little  girl 
of  eight,  who  was  playing  so  contentedly  on  the 
floor  with  the  presents  Santa  Claus  had  just  brought 
her. 

"  Oh,  Walter,  I  can't  let  Daisy  go  again !  "  cried 
Mrs.  Kirke.  "  Last  time  she  nearly  died  in  the 
boat,  and  you  know  she  wasn't  really  herself  for 
weeks  and  weeks  afterwards." 

Daisy  heard  her  name  being  spoken,  and  looked 
up.  Her  sleek  little  head  and  round  brown  eyes 
gave  her  the  look  of  a  baby  seal.  Such  a  happy 
baby  seal  that  morning,  with  a  five-shilling  magic 
lantern,  twelve  biblical  slides,  a  dolly  that  could 
squeak  in  the  most  lifelike  manner,  and  a  darling 
little  chair! 

"  But  leave  her  ?  "  questioned  Kirke,  with  a  hope 
less  gesture  of  his  hand.  "  And  that  with  the 
island  full  of  mutineers,  and  Heaven  only  knows 
to-day  what  deviltry  and  carousing  ?  " 

Mrs.  Kirke  thought  awhile. 

"  Twenty  miles  over  there — three  hours,"  she 
said  at  last ;  "  an  hour  to  straighten  out  the  king — 
four  hours ;  three  back,  makes  seven.  That  means 
being  home  by  sundown.  We  can  trust  Nantok 
all  right  to  take  good  care  of  her,  and  then  I'll 
get  Peter  to  send  down  an  armed  guard." 

Kirke  acquiesced  in  silence.  He  was  a  tall,  thin 
man,  not  over-clever,  whose  fervent  Christianity 
was  strangely  at  variance  with  a  constitutional  in- 

195 


WILD    JUSTICE 


clination  to  see  the  darker  side  of  things.  He  dis 
trusted  Nantok,  distrusted  the  king's  guard,  felt  a 
profound  apprehension  of  that  jeering,  boisterous 
mob  of  sailors,  who  pigged  together  in  Rick's  old 
boatshed,  and  were  numerous  enough  to  defy  every 
law  of  the  island.  It  was  terrible  to  him  to  leave 
his  little  girl  in  such  company.  Yet  he  recalled 
his  last  trip  across  the  strait,  when  she  had  fainted 
with  the  heat — fainted  again  and  again — as  they 
had  attempted,  with  such  distress  and  agony,  to 
screen  her  from  a  glare  as  pitiless  as  a  furnace. 
He  remembered  dipping  her,  naked,  all  but  lifeless, 
into  the  milkwarm  water,  till  up  from  the  trans 
parent  depths  the  swift,  bluish  glimmer  of  a  shark 
warned  him  to  snatch  her  in.  Remembered  the 
hopelessness  of  it,  the  terror,  the  despair,  he  himself 
bending  to  an  oar,  and  offering  every  inducement 
his  mind  could  think  of  to  incite  his  crew  to  pull 
their  hearts  out.  No,  all  that  was  a  nightmare 
to  look  back  on — never,  never  to  be  repeated. 

Daisy  was  called  over  and  the  situation  explained 
to  her.  Like  all  only  children,  living  constantly 
in  the  society  of  her  parents,  and  sharing  their  talk 
and  plans,  she  was  precociously  old  for  her  age, 
and  more  serious  and  thoughtful  than  a  little  tot 
ought  to  be.  Though  her  lower  lip  trembled,  and 
her  eyes  flooded  with  tears,  she  put  on  a  brave  face 
to  it,  and  protested  her  willingness  to  remain  with 
Nantok  and  be  a  good  little  girl. 
196 


MR.   BOB 

"And  mamma  and  papa  will  be  back  at  dusk; 
and  if  they  are  detained,  you  mustn't  be  the  least 
bit  worried  about  them;  and  you'll  let  Nantok  put 
you  to  bed  at  eight;  and  if  you  wake  up  and  feel 
frightened,  you  are  to  remember  the  army  outside, 
guarding  you  in  your  sleep  like  a  little  princess ! " 

"  And  Dod,  too,"  added  Daisy  piously,  though 
inwardly  pleased  to  have  the  army  as  well. 

"  Oh,  my  lamb !  "  cried  Mrs.  Kirke,  clasping  her 
to  her  breast.  "  It  breaks  mamma's  heart  to  leave 
her  little  girl  on  Christmas  Day ! " 

Altogether  it  was  a  damp  moment  in  the  Kirke 
family,  and  even  the  missionary's  eyes  were  sus 
piciously  moist  as  he  knelt  beside  his  wife  and 
talked  hurriedly  about  the  magic  lantern,  and  the 
dolly,  and  what  a  jolly  evening  they'd  all  have 
when  they  got  back  from  Tarawa. 

Preparations  were  soon  made.  The  whaleboat 
was  got  ready,  and  manned  by  a  stout  crew  of  such 
recent  Christians  that  the  demons  of  the  strait  had 
first  to  be  appeased  by  two  tins  of  salmon  and  six 
biscuit,  paid  secretly  in  advance  to  Nebenua,  the 
devil-priest.  Then,  when  all  was  ready,  even  to 
the  breaker  of  brackish  water,  a  forty-pound  tin  of 
biscuit,  two  hundred  fresh  nuts,  medicine  chest, 
compass,  and  five  pounds  of  niggerhead  tobacco 
by  way  of  petty  cash,  the  whole  expedition  was 
tantalized  and  held  back  by  the  non-arrival  of  the 
guard,  who  were  frenziedly  searching  for  their 
197 


WILD   JUSTICE 


boots.  Why  the  army  was  so  ruthlessly  condemned 
to  wear  boots,  is  a  question  that  was  often  asked 
and  never  properly  answered.  Nobody  else  wore 
boots — not  even  the  king;  but  the  military  caste  is 
proverbially  dressy,  and  it  is  enough  to  say  that 
the  armed  forces  of  Apiang  set  immense  store  by 
their  boots. 

At  last  they  arrived,  boots  and  all,  a  straggling, 
hobbling  party  of  seven,  with  cartridge  belts  and 
rifles.  Little  Daisy  was  formally  put  in  their 
charge ;  solemn  pledges  were  given  and  accepted ; 
a  keg  of  beef,  to  be  subsequently  presented,  was 
hedged  about  with  innumerable  restrictions.  That 
keg — like  liberty — was  to  be  at  the  price  of  eternal 
vigilance.  And  then,  when  everything  had  been 
said,  and  explained,  and  threatened,  the  whaleboat 
hoisted  her  anchor — a  coral  stone — and  set  a 
straight  course  for  Tarawa. 

It  was  a  long  day — a  very  long  day — quite  the 
longest  day  in  Daisy's  tiny  life.  She  successively 
exhausted  the  magic  lantern,  the  dolly,  and  the 
chair.  She  went  out  and  prattled  with  the  army 
where  they  sprawled  under  the  lee  of  the  kitchen, 
smoking  endless  pandanus  cigarettes.  She  helped 
Nantok  prepare  lunch — a  bowl  of  chocolate  made 
with  condensed  milk,  and  hot  buttered  toast.  After 
lunch  she  had  a  nap  with  Nantok  on  the  mats,  and 
after  that  again  an  exciting  talk  about  the  great 
massacre  on  Tapatuea,  where  all  Nantok 's  people 
198 


MR.    BOB 

had  been  killed  during  that  Kanaka  Saint  Bartholo 
mew's.  Then  out  to  the  army  again,  and  checkers, 
which  the  army  played  amazingly  well,  beating  her 
so  often  that  even  this  pastime  palled.  Then 

Oh,  what  a  sigh! 

The  sleek  little  seal  was  aweary,  aweary.  The 
house  was  so  empty,  so  still,  and  there  was  such 
a  void  in  that  aching  baby  heart!  She  went  into 
papa's  room  and  cried  on  his  bed.  He  would  be 
drowned  in  the  strait;  savage  old  Karaitch  would 
shoot  him  with  a  gun;  he  would  be  blown  out  to 
sea  like  Mr.  Pettibone  the  beech-comber.  The  hot 
tears  scalded  her  cheeks.  She  had  always  liked 
Mr.  Pettibone.  Papa  called  him  a  proff — proff — 
proff  something,  but  he  had  always  been  so  jolly, 
and  his  red  face  and  funny  little  blue  eyes  rose 
before  her  out  of  the  mist.  She  cried  over  the 
lost  Pettibone;  over  Tansy  the  cat,  that  had  died 
from  eating  a  lizard ;  over  Nosey,  her  pet  chicken, 
that  Nantok  had  killed  by  mistake  one  night  for 
supper;  cried  over  papa  and  mamma,  far  away  in 
the  whaler — totaled  up  all  the  little  sadnesses  of 
her  little  life,  meting  out  tears  to  every  one.  And 
then,  feeling  greatly  refreshed,  she  went  out  on 
the  front  porch,  and  wondered  what  she  should 
do  next. 

Down  the  shore,  about  a  mile  away,  there  were 
others  who  found  time  less  heavy  on  their  hands. 
At  the  Land  We  Live  In,  a  one-roomed  saloon 
199 


WILD    JUSTICE 


which  catered  for  a  permanent  white  population  of 
thirteen,  and  a  transient  one  that  varied  from  a 
cutter  to  a  full-rigged  ship — at  the  Land  We  Live 
In  Christmas  was  being  celebrated  in  a  rousing 
fashion.  To  begin  with,  there  were  the  mutineers 
of  the  Lord  Dundonald,  twenty-two  strong,  with 
plenty  of  money  still  to  spend.  Their  revolt  against 
authority  had  not  been  without  some  redeeming 
features,  and  an  unbiased  critic  would  have  found 
it  hard  to  blame  them.  After  twenty-seven  days 
and  nights  at  the  pumps  of  a  four-masted  sieve, 
the  Lords  had  struck  in  a  body,  and  forced  the 
captain  to  abandon  the  ship  and  set  out  in  three 
boats  for  Apiang.  Here  they  double-dyed  their 
crime  by  compelling  the  wrathful  master  to  pay 
them  their  wages  to  date,  from  six  hundred  and 
thirty-nine  pounds  he  had  taken  with  him  from  a 
vessel  he  had  fondly  hoped  to  pump  to  China. 
Captain  Latimer,  with  the  three  mates,  the  car 
penter,  and  one  of  the  hands,  had  sailed  away 
south  in  the  longboat,  vowing  yardarms  and  a 
man-of-war,  and  when  last  seen  was  sinking  over 
the  horizon  in  the  direction  of  the  Fiji  Islands. 

Well,  here  they  all  were  in  the  Land  We  Live  In, 
together  with  Tom  Holderson,  Peter  Extrum,  Eddy 
Newnes,  and  Long  Joe  Kelly,  all  of  Apiang;  Papa 
Benson,  of  Tarawa;  Jones  and  Peabody,  of  Big 
Muggin;  and  crazy  old  Jimmy  Mathison,  of  no 
where  in  particular — unless  it  were  the  nearest  gin 
200 


MR.   BOB 

bottle;  and  it  was  a  rip-roaring  Christmas,  and  no 
mistake,  with  bottled  beer  flowing  like  water,  and 
songs  and  choruses  and  clog  dances  and  hornpipes ; 
and  Papa  Benson  (in  earrings  and  pink  pajamas) 
a-blowing  enough  wind  through  his  concertina  to 
have  sailed  a  ship.  And  there  were  girls,  too,  seven 
or  eight  of  them,  in  bright  trade-cotton  Mother 
Hubbards — a  bevy  of  black-eyed  little  heathen 
savages,  who  bore  a  hand  with  the  trays,  and  added 
their  saucy  laughter  to  the  general  gayety,  helping 
out  Larry  the  barkeep  as  he  drew  unending  corks 
or  stopped  to  wipe  the  sweat  off  his  forehead,  say 
ing,  "  Genelmen,  the  drinks  is  on  Billy,"  or  Tommy, 
or  Long  Joe,  or  whoever  it  was  that  was  treating. 

Suddenly,  at  the  door,  which  had  been  kept  shut 
to  prevent  the  natives  from  assembling  and  peering 
in — suddenly,  at  the  door,  there  was  heard  a  faint, 
faint  knock.  The  concertina  stopped.  Fritz,  the 
Dutchman,  said  "  Hoosh ! "  and  raised  his  pipe  for 
silence.  The  knock  was  repeated.  Quiet  descended 
on  the  Land  We  Live  In.  Larry  looked  up  from 
his  bottles,  and  in  a  rough  and  belligerent  voice 
called  out,  "  Come  in !  " 

The  invitation  was  hesitatingly  obeyed,  and  there 
stood  Daisy  Kirke  on  the  threshold,  a  sweet,  falter 
ing  figure,  with  her  guard,  boots  and  all,  lined  up 
in  the  roadway.  Hardly  a  soul  in  the  room  knew 
there  was  a  little  white  girl  on  the  island;  and  the 
sight  of  Daisy,  with  the  red  ribbon  in  her  hair,  her 
2OI 


WILD   JUSTICE 


dimity  frock,  her  long  stockings  and  pinafore,  was 
as  startling  as  it  was  unexpected. 

"  Howdy-do,  evver'body  ?  "  said  she. 

There  was  an  embarrassed  silence. 

"  I  know  you  better  than  you  do  me,"  went  on 
Daisy  confidentially,  proving  it  with  her  forefinger. 
"  That's  Tommy,  the  cabin  boy ;  and  yonder's  Mr. 
Mathison,  the  beach-comber ;  and  you  " — indicating 
a  giant  of  a  man  with  an  aquiline  nose  and  a  square- 
cut  beard — "  you  are  Mr.  Bob  Fletcher,  the  ring 
leader  ! " 

A  giggle  of  subdued  merriment  ran  round  the 
room.  An  instinctive  respect  kept  it  within  bounds, 
or  perhaps  it  was  Bob  Fletcher's  fierce  and  warn 
ing  look  that  cowed  any  incipient  rowdyism.  The 
brawny  mutineer  set  her  on  his  knee,  and,  in  a 
voice  harshened  by  thirty  years'  service  before  the 
mast,  asked  her  deferentially  if  she  fancied  a  glass 
of  syrup? 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Daisy  politely ;  and  then, 
addressing  everybody  in  general,  "  papa  and  mam 
ma's  gone  to  Tarawa !  " 

"  Now,  if  that  ain't  too  bad !  "  put  in  Bob  sympa 
thetically. 

"  And  so  it  just  occurred  to  me,"  went  on  Daisy, 
"  to  do  something  nice  to  surprise  them  when  they 
came  back." 

A  profound  silence  greeted  this  remark.  The 
devil's  love  of  holy  water  is  a  craving  compared 
2O2 


MR.   BOB 

to  the  amount  of  love  lost  between  a  South  Sea 
missionary  and  the  rough  white  element  that  mocks 
his  labors  at  every  turn.  It  was  the  custom  of 
the  Lord  Dundonalds,  moreover,  to  hoot  the  Rev. 
Walter  Kirke  whenever  they  met  him.  It  was  a 
recollection  of  this  that  made  the  present  situation 
so  piquant  and  humorous. 

"  Besides,  it  seems  too  bad,"  continued  Daisy, 
"  that  the  natives  should  have  such  a  fuss  made 
over  them,  while  all  you  white  gentlemen  are  left 
out  in  the  cold.  It  must  look  queer  to  Dod,  and 
I  don't  believe  He  likes  it ! " 

"  Everything  for  the  niggers — that's  right,"  mut 
tered  Tom  Extrum  bitterly,  "  and  not  even  a  six- 
months-old  newspaper  for  the  likes  of  us ! " 

"  You  don't  look  so  werry  wicked,"  said  Daisy, 
taking  in  the  room  with  a  comprehensive  glance, 
and  putting  an  arm  around  Mr.  Bob's  neck,  as 
though  confident  of  having  at  least  one  friend 
among  the  company.  "  I  wonder  if  you  wouldn't 
all  like  to  come  along  to  my  house,  and  play  with 
my  magic  lantern,  and — and — organize  a  Band  of 
Hope?" 

She  was  abashed  by  the  roar  of  laughter  that 
followed  the  proposal.  Papa  Benson  flung  him 
self  on  the  floor  and  rolled  over  and  over.  Long 
Joe  uttered  whoops  of  delight.  Even  Mr.  Bob 
shook  with  speechless  mirth,  till  the  veins  on  his 
forehead  stood  out  like  strings.  Never  in  all  its 
203 


WILD   JUSTICE 


history  was  there  such  a  hullabulloo  in  the  Land 
We  Live  In.  As  the  rumpus  died  down  something 
very  like  remorse  overwhelmed  the  roisterers  as 
they  saw  Daisy's  flushing,  quivering  little  face,  hot 
with  mortification. 

It  was  Mr.  Bob  who  sprang  to  the  rescue  before 
the  brimming  tears  could  fall. 

"  I'm  on !  "  he  shouted,  rising  to  his  feet  with 
unexpected  enthusiasm.  "  Now,  then,  boys,  who 
says  '  Aye,  aye  '  for  the  Band  of  'Ope  ?  " 

A  good  part  of  the  crowd  would  have  preferred 
to  stay  by  their  spree;  but  so  contagious  is  exam 
ple  and  so  sheeplike  the  sailor  nature,  that  the 
whole  room  fell  in  with  Bob,  and  answered  his  call 
like  one  man. 

He  swung  Daisy  up  on  his  shoulder,  where,  from 
that  dizzy  perch,  she  looked  back  shyly  at  the  noisy 
pack  behind  her.  Secure  in  the  conquest  of  the 
ringleader,  whom  intuitively  she  felt  stronger  than 
the  rest,  and  kinder  and  more  resolute,  with  a  heart 
beneath  his  rough  exterior  as  simple  and  childlike 
as  her  own,  she  managed  to  keep  up  her  courage 
in  spite  of  the  loud,  frightening  laughter  and  the 
tipsy  boisterousness  and  horseplay  that  marked  the 
inception  of  the  Band  of  Hope.  Her  satisfaction 
was  suddenly  checked,  however,  by  the  sight  of 
the  Kanaka  girls  joining  the  procession  and  making 
as  though  to  follow. 

"  No,  they  mustn't  come ! "  she  cried  out  jeal- 
204 


MR.    BOB 

ously.  "  Please,  Mr.  Mathison,  tell  them  they 
mustn't  come !  This  is  to  be  for  men  only !  " 

"Turn  them  back!"  thundered  Bob.  "Don't 
yer  'ear  the  little  lady's  Aorders?  Scamper,  ye 
jades ! " 

Papa  Benson  struck  up  a  quickstep  on  the  con 
certina,  and,  marching  beside  Bob  Fletcher,  helped 
to  lead  the  van.  The  mutineers,  beach-combers, 
and  traders  fell  in  two  by  two.  The  rear  was 
brought  up  by  the  guard,  loutish,  hobbling,  and 
out  of  step,  bearing  their  rusty  Spring-fields  at  all 
angles.  In  this  fashion  they  made  the  missionary's 
house,  swarmed  into  the  neat  bare  inclosure  of 
coral  sand,  and  invaded  the  silent  rooms. 

A  terrible  irresolution  was  stealing  over  Daisy. 
Twelve  slides,  representing  the  wanderings  of  Saint 
Paul,  began  to  seem  too  trifling  a  means  of  holding 
the  attention  of  this  enormous  and  expectant  crowd. 
Besides,  it  came  over  her  with  a  shock  that  she 
was  a  little  hazy  about  Saint  Paul ;  and  then  there 
were  disturbing  questions  of  sheets  and  darkened 
windows,  and  how  to  make  it  work.  It  was  with 
dismay,  verging  on  despair,  that  she  saw  the  ser 
ried  ranks  of  her  recruits  crowding  the  room  to 
bursting,  and  all  regarding  her  with  humorous  an 
ticipation.  But  good  Mr.  Bob,  holding  her  in  his 
lap,  and  stroking  her  hair  with  an  enormous  red 
hand,  showed  a  most  comforting  disposition  to 
himself  take  the  breach.  At  any  rate,  he  roared 
205 


WILD   JUSTICE 


for  silence;  told  Mr.  Mathison  he'd  cut  his  liver 
out  if  he  didn't  belay  with  them  there  re-marks, 
and  assumed  a  tone  of  authority  that  calmed  the 
tumult  of  Daisy's  misgivings. 

"  Friends,"  he  said,  "  and  mates,  and  respected 
genelmen  hall,  we  are  here,  two  and  three  gathered 
togetherlike,  for  the  purpose  of  /^organizing  a 
Band  of  'Ope." 

"  Local  Number  One,"  interrupted  Billy  Button, 
the  donkey-man,  who  had  had  some  trades'-union 
experience. 

"  Band  of  'Ope,  Local  Number  One,"  continued 
Mr.  Bob,  receiving  the  suggestion  in  an  accommo 
dating  spirit.  "  And  it  is  with  great  pleasure  I 
propose  the  name  of  hour  first  president,  Miss 
Daisy  Kirke,  of  Apiang." 

Then,  my  stars,  wasn't  there  a  cheer!  Daisy 
hung  her  head,  nestled  closer  to  Mr.  Bob,  and  felt 
all  the  joy  of  good  works  promptly  bearing  fruit. 

"  I  don't  see  no  reason,"  went  on  Mr.  Bob,  "  why 
a  false  modesty,  that  'as  been  my  /mnfailing  'andi- 
cap  through  life,  should  prevent  me  from  nomi 
nating  myself  as  your  ^esteemed  vice  president.  I 
do  not  wish  to  seem  a-soaring  too  'igh,  or  reaching 
out  for  honors  that  belong  to  Aabler  'eads  nor  mine ; 
but  I'll  take  the  sense  of  the  meeting  in  a  kindly 
spirit,  and  will  abide  peaceable  by  a  show  of 
'ands!" 

When  the  applause  had  subsided,  Billy  Dutton 
206 


MR.    BOB 

sprang  up,  and  wanted  to  know  "  what  about  a  re 
cording  seckitary?" 

"  I  don't  see  no  'arm  in  the  honorable  genelman 
^assuming  the  job  'isself,"  said  Mr.  Bob,  "  if  'e 
thinks  'e's  sufficient  of  a  speller,  and  won't  run 
the  band  into  'orrible  extravagances  for  'igh-priced 
wines  and  luxuries.  The  assessments  of  this  band 
is  going  to  be  low,  and  the  diet  plain.  Who  says 
Brother  Dutton  ain't  the  man  for  the  place?  Is 
it  you,  Mr.  Riley,  I  see  raising  your  fist  agin 
him?  Oh,  only  to  ax  a  question.  Well,  one  thing 
at  a  time,  Brother  Riley.  Does  the  meeting  /ten- 
dorse  Mr.  Willum  Dutton  for  recording  seckitary  ?  " 

The  meeting  did,  vociferously  and  with  cheers. 
Daisy  ran  and  got  her  slate  for  the  recording  secki 
tary,  who  thereupon  (after  first  inscribing  the 
names  of  the  office  bearers  in  a  shaky  print)  be 
gan  to  draw  a  wonderful  picture  of  a  pirate  ship. 

"  Afore  listening  to  the  plans  of  our  valued  presi 
dent,"  said  Mr.  Bob,  "  I  propose  myself  to  /toffer 
up  a  few  general  remarks  on  'Ope!  Me  and  'Ope 
is  old  friends,  genelmen.  We  set  sail  together  from 
the  port  of  London,  'Ope  and  I,  when  I  was  a 
bright-faced  boy  that  'igh!  We've  bunked  in  to 
gether,  fair  weather  and  foul,  coming  on  this  thirty 
year.  We  'ave  set  in  our  time,  me  and  'Ope,  on 
the  bottom  of  a  capsized  schooner,  ore  laden  out 
of  Mazatlan,  with  our  tongues  'anging  out  like  the 
tails  of  some  vallyble  new  kind  of  a  black  dorg. 
207 


WILD   JUSTICE 


'Ope  and  I  took  the  Chainy  coast  once  on  a 
chicken  coop.  'Ope  and  I,  when  we  'ad  the  dol 
lars,  blew  them  in  right  royal.  'Ope  and  I,  when 
we  'adn't  none,  tightened  our  belts  and  cheered 
each  other  hup.  Looking  back  over  all  them  years, 
I  want  to  stand  hup  and  testify  right  'ere  to  the 
best  friend  of  the  sailorman,  bar  none,  and  p'r'aps 
the  honly  one  he  ever  truly  'ad — and  that's  'Ope, 
God  bless  her !  " 

Amid  the  ensuing  uproar,  which  jarred  the  walls 
of  that  prim  missionary  residence  like  an  explosion 
of  dynamite,  spilling  plates  off  dressers  and  cock- 
billing  texts,  and  arresting  the  astonished  clock  at 
four  forty-six,  little  Daisy  was  trying  to  nerve  her 
self  to  address  the  assembled  company.  The  un 
foreseen  docility  of  the  band  had  put  new  ideas 
in  that  sleek,  baby-seal  head.  Odds  and  ends  of 
tracts  and  storybooks  recurred  to  her.  Infantile 
ambitions  awoke  and  clamored.  But  it  was  daunt 
ing,  just  the  same,  to  confront  those  rows  of  eyes, 
and  those  great  big,  unshaved,  shaggy-looking 
faces,  all  keenly  waiting  for  her  to  speak. 

"  Now,  then,  little  lady,"  said  the  vice  president, 
"  'ere's  your  Band  of  'Ope,  a-panting  to  set  its  'and 
to  the  plow !  " 

Daisy  cleared  her  throat.  Pride  and  timidity 
struggled  with  each  other  in  that  eager  little  coun 
tenance.  Had  it  not  been  for  an  encouraging 
squeeze  from  Mr.  Bob,  who  knows  but  what  she 
208 


MR.   BOB 

might  have  burst  into  tears,  and  disgraced  herself 
before  the  whole  band.  But  the  squeeze,  coming 
exactly  at  the  right  time,  averted  so  mortifying  a 
catastrophe. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  began  Daisy,  catching  with 
unconscious  mimicry  some  of  the  rounded  tones 
of  her  father's  voice — "  my  dear,  kind  friends !  " 

"  Well,  go  on,"  cried  Mr.  Bob ;  "  that's  a  swell 
start !  That's  the  way  to  wake  them  up !  " 

"Hear!  hear!"     (This  from  a  dozen  places.) 

"  I  have  called  you  togevver,"  went  on  Daisy 
bravely,  "  so  we  might  enjoy  the  travels  of  Saint 
Paul,  which  belongs  to  the  magic  lantern  Santa 
Claus  brought  me  this  morning  for  Christmas,  be 
cause  I'm  such  a  good  little  girl.  Saint  Paul  was 
a  kind  of  a  sailor,  too,  and  got  shipwrecked,  like 
Mr.  Bob,  in  an  awful  storm.  I  used  to  know  all 
about  Saint  Paul,  but  somehow  I've  got  mixed  up 
about  him  since.  Perhaps  one  of  our  members 
will  oblige,  so  we'll  know  what  the  slides  are  about 
when  we  get  wound  to  them  ?  " 

There  was  a  profound  silence.  No  one  volun 
teered.  Billy  Dutton,  looking  up  from  the  pirate 
ship,  to  which  he  was  adding  some  finishing 
touches,  said  he  was  afeared  the  president  would 
find  them  a  sad,  ignorant  lot  of  ignorpotammusses. 

"  Then  we'll  just  have  to  get  along  without  Saint 
Paul,"  said  Daisy  regretfully.  "  Perhaps  it  is  as 
well,  too,  for  Bands  of  Hope  isn't  only  for  amoose- 
209 


WILD   JUSTICE 


ment,  but  to  do  good,  and  help  uvvers,  and  carry 
the  glad  tidings  right  and  left  into  the  darkest 
corners  of  the  earth." 

"  Gee-whilikins ! "  exclaimed  Sammy  Nesbit, 
"  where's  this  we're  fetching  up  to,  mates  ?  " 

"  Silence !  //order !  Shut  your  face !  Dry  up, 
there,  Sammy !  "  roared  the  Band  of  Hope. 

"  I  was  finking,"  went  on  the  president,  confi 
dentially  and  undisturbed,  "  why  a  nice  little  sur 
prise  for  papa  wouldn't  be  as  good  an  idea  as  any. 
It's  an  awful  long  way  to  Tarawa  and  back,  and 
papa's  never  been  werry  strong  since  the  fever  he 
got  in  New  Guinea,  before  he  married  mamma 
with  Mr.  Chalmers." 

"  Wot  sort  of  a  surprise  /texactly  ?  "  asked  the 
vice  president  with  an  expression  of  some  doubt. 

"  Putting  up  mottoes  wound  the  walls,"  returned 
Daisy,  "  and  green  branches  and  palmleaves  and 
texes  and  Merry  Christmas,  like  grandpapa's  in 
Devonshire,  when  I  was  a  little  tiny  winy  girl. 
And  papa  will  be  so  pleased  and  happy  and  sur 
prised  that  I  know  he'll  just  love  it,  and  won't 
never  feel  tired  at  all !  " 

The  Band  of  Hope,  who  seemed  given  to  singu 
lar  and  inextinguishable  fits  of  laughter,  promptly 
went  off  into  another  paroxysm ;  and  laughter  with 
the  Band  of  Hope  was  no  drawing-room  perform 
ance,  no  polite  titter  behind  an  upraised  hand. 
When  the  Band  of  Hope  laughed,  it  rolled  on  the 

2IO 


MR.   BOB 

floor,  beat  its  clenched  fists  against  neighboring 
backs,  screamed,  huzzaed,  cat-called,  kicked  pa  jama 
legs  in  the  air,  and  shook  the  pictures  off  the  walls. 
Mr.  Bob  seemed  to  be  the  only  one  who  knew  how 
to  behave,  but  even  Mr.  Bob  grew  crimson  in  the 
face,  and  choked,  and  opened  his  mouth  till  you 
could  see  way  down  his  froat. 

"  Genelmen,"  he  said,  when  at  last  he  had  some 
what  recovered,  "you've  listened  to  our  borders, 
and  I'll  honly  remind  you  that  them  that  Aain't 
with  us  is  agin  us,  as  Saint  Paul  says.  Back 
sliders  and  goats  may  return  to  the  bar,  but  me 
and  the  fleecy  sheep  is  agoing  to  see  this  thing 
through,  and  do  our  dooty  /mnder  the  regilations 
by  Board  of  Trade  ^appointed.  Goats,  as  I  said 
afore,  will  kindly  rise  and  step  out !  " 

"  We  ain't  no  blooming  quitters,"  spoke  up  Billy 
Button.  "  Goats,  nothing,  you  wall-eyed  old  ram  1 
You  want  to  cinch  all  the  texes  for  yesself,  and 
make  a  running  with  our  lovely  president.  But 
we  are  on  to  you,  Bob  Fletcher,  and  I  voice  the 
sentimomgs  of  the  whole  band  when  I  says  with 
Saint  John,  in  the  forty-first  epistle  to  the  Proo- 
sians,  '  Wot  you  put  your  fist  to,  that  do  it  with 
all  yer  might ! '  " 

"  Aye,  aye !  "  chorused  the  band  with  boisterous 
approval. 

"  Then  hup  and  work,  you  devils ! "  exclaimed 
the  vice  president.  "  Pull  out  that  table,  Mack ; 
211 


WILD   JUSTICE 


and  you,  there,  bear  a  'and  to  'elp  'ira,  'Enery.  Set 
hup  the  little  chair,  Williams!  Easy  with  Saint 
Paul,  you,  Tommy,  or  you'll  crack  him  sure — and 
lay  the  whole  caboodlum  on  the  shelf,  Aout  of 
'arm's  way !  Lively,  lads — lively !  " 

Bob  lifted  Daisy  in  his  arms,  and  carrying  her 
to  the  table,  installed  her  comfortably  in  the  little 
chair. 

"  Captain's  bridge,"  he  said ;  "  and  if  anything 
ain't  right,  or  just  ^according  to  your  Aidears,  you 
sing  out  to  the  lower  deck,  loud  and  'earty;  only 
mind  you  don't  get  /zexcited  and  spill  orf ! " 

Daisy's  eyes  danced,  and  her  timidity  all  van 
ished  as  she  saw  the  jovial  and  obedient  band 
grouping  together  and  hotly  discussing  the  pro 
posed  decorations.  Distances  were  measured  with 
tarry  thumbs.  A  party  of  six  was  told  off  to 
climb  the  cocoa  palms  across  the  road;  while  an 
other,  shouting  and  hallooing  like  schoolboys,  was 
dispatched  to  Holderson's  station  to  get  sinnet. 
There  was  a  noisy  wrangle  over  spelling.  "  I  never 
seed  it  like  that,"  said  one,  squinting  over  Billy's 
slate,  "  and  I  don't  believe  nobody  else  ever  did 
neither."  "  For  the  love  of  Mike,"  roared  another, 
"  let's  stick  to  them  words  we're  all  agreed  on, 
and  keep  off  of  that  thorological  grass !  "  "  Man 
and  boy,  I've  been  to  sea  this  thirty  years,"  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Bob  with  crushing  vehemence,  "  and 
there  warn't  no  T  in  Christmas  then,  and  there 
212 


MR.  BOB 

ain't  now!  C-R-I-S-S-M-A-S,  you  son  of  a  sea 
cook,  and  I  know  Aevery  letter  of  it  like  the  palm 
of  me  'and!" 

In  a  corner,  dispassionately  aloof  from  all  the 
bustle  and  argument,  Papa  Benson,  that  venerable 
dandy  of  the  pink  pajamas,  pumped  up  the  con 
certina,  and  drew  melodiously  on  his  ancient  reper 
toire.  To  the  inspiring  strains  of  "  In  Her  Hair 
She  Wore  a  White  Camellia,"  "  Oh,  Buffalo  Gals, 
Won't  You  Come  Out  To-night?"  and  the  "  Mulli 
gatawny  Guards,"  the  good  work  progressed  with 
sailorlike  speed  and  system.  The  bare,  dreary  room 
grew  gay  with  greenery.  Stitched  to  the  matting 
walls  with  sinnet  there  appeared  letters,  words, 
and  finally  complete  inscriptions:  PEAS  ON  ERTH 
AND  GOODWILL  TOWARDS  MAN  ;  DAISY  KIRKE,  THE 
SEAMAN'S  STAR;  MERRY  CRISSMAS,  and  GOD  BLESS 
OUR  HOM. 

Daisy  clapped  her  hands  with  delight,  and  did 
not  stint  her  praise  or  approval.  Occasionally  she 
would  stand  up  on  the  "  bridge  "  to  anxiously  point 
out  a  crooked  letter,  or  call  attention  to  a  doubtful 
spelling;  and  her  little  heart  overflowed  with  satis 
faction  at  the  brisk  "  Aye,  aye,  Miss !  "  that  greeted 
her  smallest  criticism.  Mr.  Bob  worked  like  a 
horse,  and  not  only  made  things '  jump,  but  kept 
a  sharp  watch  as  well  on  the  unguarded  utterances 
of  his  mates.  Once,  at  some  remark  of  Mr.  Tod's, 
he  flared  up  like  a  lion,  and  stepping  close  to  Mr. 
213 


WILD   JUSTICE 


Tod,  with  his  fist  clenched,  said,  "  Drop  that,  Tod 
dy — d'ye  'ear — drop  it ! "  and  stared  at  him  so 
fierce  and  splendid,  that  Mr.  Tod  fell  back  and 
mumbled  something  about  "  No  offense,"  and  "  It 
kinder  ripped  out  unbeknownst,  Bob,  old  cock !  " 

By  the  time  it  was  all  finished  dusk  was  falling. 
The  room  had  been  beautifully  swept  out,  and  like 
wise  the  porch,  and  Mr.  Bell  was  in  the  act  of 
dancing  a  fascinating  clog  to  Papa  Benson's  "  Sol 
dier's  Joy  "  on  the  concertina,  when  Nantok  rushed 
in,  shouting  that  Mr.  Kirke  was  coming.  And, 
indeed,  she  had  no  sooner  given  the  news  than 
it  was  confirmed  by  the  whaler's  crew,  whose 
voices  could  be  heard  far  across  the  water,  lustily 
singing  at  their  paddles. 

A  sort  of  consternation  descended  on  the  Band 
of  Hope.  "  Hell ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Button,  and 
dropped  his  broom  with  a  crash.  There  was  a 
mad  scurry  to  escape.  The  little  president  was 
forgotten  in  the  pellmell  rush,  and  from  the  height 
of  her  table  she  perceived  her  friends  flying  away 
without  a  word  of  farewell.  No,  not  all.  The 
faithful  Mr.  Bob,  quiet  and  masterful  even  in  that 
panicky  moment  of  the  missionary's  return,  came 
up  to  her,  and  taking  her  hand  in  both  his  own, 
nuzzled  it  long  and  lovingly  against  his  cheek. 

"  Little  Daisy,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  sounded 
kind  of  strange  and  different,  "  I  want  you  to  give 
a  message  to  your  pa — a  message  from  me,  you  say 
214 


MR.    BOB 

to  'im — and  that  is,  'e'll  never  'ave  no  more  trouble 
with  the  boys  down  the  shore.  And  if  any  of  them 
gets  fresh,  or  gives  'im  any  lip,  or  'oots — you  tell 
'im  this,  Daisy — I'll  break  every  bone  of  'is  body, 
so  'elp  me,  Moses.  And  it  Aain't  because  of  'im, 
or  anythink  the  like  of  that,  but  because  he's  the 
father  of  the  darlingest  little  gal  that  Aever 
breathed,  and  the  sweetest  and  the  dearest." 

Daisy  flung  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed 
him ;  and  as  her  face  pressed  his,  rough  as  mahog 
any  and  hairy  as  a  mat,  she  felt  it  all  wet  with 
tears. 

Daisy  was  still  wondering  what  it  was  that  could 
make  Mr.  Bob  cry,  when  he  suddenly  let  her  go, 
and  walked  out  of  the  door  in  his  funny,  heavy, 
lurching  sea  walk,  looking  straight  before  him,  and 
unheeding  the  "  Happy  Noo  Year,  Mr.  Bob !  "  she 
called  after  him  in  a  pitiful  little  voice. 

"  Poor  Mr.  Bob ! "  said  Daisy  to  herself ;  and 
then,  happening  to  put  her  hand  to  her  hair,  she 
discovered  that  the  red  ribbon  was  gone! 

"  He  must  have  stole  it  for  a  keepsake  when  I 
was  kissing  him !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  you  bad, 
bad  Mr.  Bob !  " 

But  her  eyes  sparkled  nevertheless,  as  she  ran 
out  to  greet  papa  and  mamma. 


215 


OLD    DIBS 

His  beginnings  was  a  mystery,  where  he  come 
from  a  conjecture,  and  his  business  in  Manihiki 
Island  one  of  them  things  that  bothered  a  fellow 
in  his  sleep  and  yapped  at  his  heels  when  he  was 
awake.  Captain  Corker  had  picked  him  up  at 
Penrhyn,  and  the  trader  there  said  he  had  been 
landed  from  a  barkentine,  lumber  laden,  from  Port 
land,  and  from  there  back  there  was  a  haze  on  his 
past  thicker  than  Bobby  Carter's.  Leastways,  with 
Bobby  there  was  his  forty-five  different  stories  to 
account  for  the  leg-iron  scars  on  his  ankles,  but 
with  Old  Dibs  you  hadn't  even  that  to  chew  on. 
Nothing  but  five  large  new  trunks  and  the  clothes 
he  stood  in.  Remarkable  clothes,  too,  they  were, 
for  a  coral  island  in  the  mid  Pacific,  being  invari 
ably  a  stovepipe  hat  and  a  Prince  Albert  coat,  with 
trousers  changing  from  pearl  gray  to  lead  color, 
with  stripes,  till  you'd  think  he'd  melt! 

He  was  a  fine  man  to  look  at,  about  sixty  years 
of  age,  very  portly  and  pleasant  spoken,  and  every 
thing  he  said  sounded  important,  even  if  it  was 
only  about  the  weather  or  why  cocoanut  milk  al 
ways  gave  him  cramps.  He  said  his  name  was 
Smith.  People  who  change  their  names  seem  al- 
216 


OLD   DIBS 

ways  to  change  it  to  Smith,  till  you  wonder  some 
times  they  don't  choose  Jones,  or  maybe  Patterson, 
or  Wilkins.  But  you'll  notice  it  is  Smith  every 
time,  though  we  always  called  him  Old  Dibs,  be 
cause  of  the  money  that  he  had  and  threw  around 
so  regardless. 

My  first  sight  of  him  was  on  the  front  porch, 
mopping  his  forehead,  and  asking  whether  he  might 
have  board  and  lodging  by  the  week.  I  told  him 
that  we  hardly  carried  style  enough  for  a  gentle 
man  like  him,  but  all  we  had  he  was  welcome  to 
— and  if  not  too  long — for  nothing.  He  seemed 
pleased  at  this,  and  more  pleased  still  when  he 
looked  over  our  big  bedroom  and  noticed  my  wife's 
smiling,  comely  face.  She's  only  a  Kanaka  girl, 
but  I  wouldn't  trade  her  for  a  million.  And  he 
laid  down  a  shining  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  and 
asked  if  that  would  do  every  Tuesday  ? 

Now  I  am  as  fond  of  money  as  any  man,  but 
I'm  not  a  pirate,  and  so  I  said  it  was  too  much. 
But  he  wouldn't  take  no  denial,  and  flung  it  down 
on  the  trade-room  counter  again,  saying  he  counted 
it  settled.  Then  I  turned  to  with  his  trunks,  told 
my  wife  to  bundle  out  into  the  boatshed,  and 
opened  beer. 

"  Making  a  long  stay,  sir  ?  "  said  I. 

"  I  hardly  know,  Bill,"  he  said.     (I  had  told  him 
my  name  was  Bill.)     "I  hardly  know,  Bill/*  axid 
with  that  he  heaved  a  tremendous  sigh. 
217 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"  We  don't '  often  have  visitors  here,"  I  said. 
"  The  last  was  eighteen  men  of  the  British  bark 
Wolverine,  in  boats,  from  French  Frigate  Shoals, 
where  they  were  cast  away." 

"  I'm  looking  for  a  quiet  place  to  end  my  days 
in,"  he  says. 

"Well,  I  guess  you've  found  it,"  I  says. 

"  It  looks  as  though  I  had,  Bill,"  he  answers, 
gazing  seaward  where  the  palms  was  bending  in 
the  trade  breeze  and  there  was  nothing  but  the 
speck  of  Captain  Corker's  schooner  beating  out. 
I  could  see  he  was  pretty  downhearted,  and  though 
I  set  the  music  box  going  to  cheer  him  and  asked 
if  he  fancied  a  nice  mess  of  gulls'  eggs  for  supper, 
it  wasn't  no  good,  and  finally  he  went  into  his  room 
and  set  out  the  rest  of  the  day  on  one  of  the 
trunks. 

I  went  along  the  same  evening  to  talk  it  over 
with  Tom  Riley,  the  other  trader  in  Manihiki,  who, 
in  spite  of  our  being  in  opposition  and  all  that,  was 
more  like  my  own  born  brother  than  a  rival  in 
business.  We  never  let  down  the  price  of  shell  or 
copra  on  each  other,  and  lined  up  shoulder  to  shoul 
der  if  a  third  party  tried  to  break  in,  and  so  we 
had  enough  for  both  of  us  and  a  tidy  bit  over. 
Tom  was  afire  to  hear  all  about  Old  Dibs,  and 
had  been  getting  bulletins  the  whole  afternoon 
from  the  Kanakas,  down  to  the  twenty  dollars  and 
the  five  trunks,  and  even  the  way  he  sighed. 
218 


OLD   DIBS 

Tom  knew  right  away  he  was  a  defaulter,  and 
said  we  were  in  powerful  luck  to  have  got  him. 
It  was  fine  of  Tom  to  take  it  like  that,  for  what 
luck  there  was  was  mine,  and  he  said  he'd  help 
out  with  chickens  and  fresh  fish  and  some  extra 
superior  canned  stuff  he  had,  so  that  Old  Dibs 
would  be  comfortable  and  want  to  stay.  Tom  was 
a  good  deal  like  that  professor  who  could  make  a 
prehistoric  animal  out  of  one  prehistoric  bone,  and 
then,  when  later  on  they  discovered  the  whole  beast 
entire,  it  was  head  and  tail  with  the  one  he  had 
drawn  on  the  blackboard.  And  by  the  time  the 
square-face  had  made  a  second  round,  Tom's  fancy 
had  flown  higher  than  a  yellow-back  novel,  Old 
Dibs  being  dead,  blessing  me  with  his  last  breath 
and  making  me  the  heir  of  all  his  riches! 

Tom  walked  home  with  me,  still  talking,  for  we 
had  now  bought  a  ninety-ton  schooner  with  my 
legacy,  me  captain  and  him  supercargo,  and  we  had 
taken  out  French  naturalization  papers  so  we  might 
be  free  of  the  Paumotu  and  Tubuai  groups.  When 
we  said  good  night,  whispering  so  as  not  to  disturb 
Old  Dibs,  who  was  snoring  out  serene,  it  had  grown 
to  be  a  fleet,  with  headquarters  at  Papiete,  and  a 
steam  service  to  'Frisco !  We  were  a  pair  of  boys, 
both  of  us,  and  could  make  squid  taste  like  lamb 
chops  just  by  telling  ourselves  it  was  so! 

I  reckon  Old  Dibs  was  a  little  suspicious  of  me 
and  Tom,  and  small  blame  to  him  for  that,  the 
219 


WILD   JUSTICE 


Islands  being  pretty  full  of  tough  customers,  with 
never  no  law  nor  order  nor  nobody  to  appeal  to 
in  trouble  unless  it  was  your  gun.  He  made  me 
put  a  stout  bolt  on  his  door  and  chicken  wire  over 
the  windows,  and  always  slept  with  the  lamp  burn 
ing  in  his  room ;  and  it  was  noticeable,  too,  that  he 
never  cared  to  wander  far  away  from  the  house. 
He  was  given  to  playing  the  flute  in  the  stern  of  an 
old  whaleboat,  which  was  drawn  up  near  the  sta 
tion  with  a  cocoanut  shelter  over  it.  He  never 
went  anywhere,  except  to  the  native  pastor's  (lo- 
sefo  his  name  was).  I  suppose  he  felt  a  kind  of 
protection  in  him — losefo  being  the  nearest  thing 
to  an  official  in  the  island — and  he  made  himself 
very  solid  in  that  quarter,  giving  to  the  church 
lavish  and  going  there  every  Sunday.  He  always 
come  back  from  them  visits  with  a  ruminating 
look  in  his  eye,  and  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to 
make  a  bee  line  for  his  room,  like  somebody  might 
have  been  tampering  with  his  trunks. 

Finally  one  day  he  took  me  aside  and  said :  "  Bill, 
that  losefo  is  a  very  agreeable  man,  and  if  it  would 
be  the  same  to  you,  I'd  like  to  have  him  a  little 
about  the  house." 

"Why,  Mr.  Smith,"  I  said,  "you  needn't  have 
troubled  to  ask  me  that ;  any  friend  of  yours  is 
welcome,  I  am  sure,  and  I  never  saw  no  harm  in 
losefo,  even  if  he  is  a  missionary." 

I  thought  he  meant  to  have  the  fellow  in  to  talk 
220 


OLD  DIBS 

with  him  or  play  checkers,  to  while  away  the  time 
that  hung  so  heavy  on  his  hands.  But  it  wasn't 
this  at  all — except  for  a  halfway  pretense  at  the 
beginning.  No;  he  paid  losefo  ten  dollars  a  week, 
for  what  do  you  think?  To  sit  on  one  of  his 
trunks  (the  trunk,  I  reckon)  from  seven  in  the 
morning  till  six  at  night,  barring  service  time  Sun 
days.  Yes,  sir;  nothing  else  than  a  squatting  sen 
try,  mounting  guard  over  the  boodle  inside  the 
trunk  and  protecting  it  from  me !  I  wonder  what 
the  home  missionary  society  would  have  said  to  see 
Brother  losefo  yawning  all  day  on  the  top  of  a 
trunk,  or  writing  his  sermon  on  his  knee,  Satur 
days! 

At  first  I  felt  pretty  hot  about  it,  for  it  smacked 
too  much  of  setting  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief,  or  at 
least  offsetting  the  pastor  and  me  like  the  compen 
sating  idea  of  a  ship's  chronometer;  but  my  wife 
liked  the  respectability  it  give  us  before  the  natives ; 
and  Tom  said  my  resenting  it  would  be  like  put 
ting  the  cap  on  my  head.  So  I  acted  like  I  didn't 
give  a  whoop,  the  one  way  or  the  other. 

And  then  it  wasn't  easy  to  be  anything  but  fond 
of  Old  Dibs,  for  he  was  a  nice  man  to  live  with, 
never  turning  up  his  nose  at  the  poor  food  we 
give  him,  and  always  so  kind  and  polite  to  Sarah, 
my  wife,  that  she  fairly  idolized  him.  He  was  a 
real  gentleman  through  and  through,  and  if  his 
money  (he  called  it  his  "papers,"  his  valuable 
221 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"papers")  weighed  heavy  on  his  mind,  I  guess 
I'd  have  been  no  better  in  his  shoes,  having  to 
trust  to  strangers  who  might  cut  your  throat.  He 
had  the  whole  island  to  roam  over  now,  instead 
of  being  cooped  up  like  a  chicken  in  a  coop,  and 
we  all  noticed  what  a  change  in  him  it  made  for 
the  better,  throwing  off  flesh,  and  not  panting  so 
heavy  between  the  spells  of  his  flute,  and  walking 
with  his  head  in  the  air  like  the  island  belonged 
to  him. 

He  wasn't  much  of  a  fluter,  playing  mostly  from 
notes,  and  often  picking  them  out  so  slow  that 
you'd  forget  what  the  tune  began  like.  He  de 
spised  simple  things  like  "  Way  Down  Upon  the 
Suwanee  River,"  and  the  difficult  things  seemed 
to  despise  him!  But  he  stuck  at  it  indefatiguable, 
and  blew  enough  wind  through  his  flute  to  have 
sailed  a  ship.  After  breakfast  in  the  morning, 
which  he  took  in  his  pan  jammers  like  me,  he  would 
dress  himself  up  nice  in  his  Prince  Albert,  give  his 
topper  a  wipe,  and  start  away  with  the  flute  and 
a  roll  of  music  in  a  natty  little  case,  like  he  was 
off  to  the  Bank  for  the  day.  The  only  thing  that 
ruffled  him  any  was  the  children,  about  eighty  of 
them,  who  always  went  along,  too,  and  set  in  a  cir 
cle  around  him  when  he  played.  I  told  him  they'd 
soon  tire  of  tagging  after  him,  which  he  said  he 
was  mighty  glad  to  hear;  but  if  it  was  flies,  they 
couldn't  have  been  more  pertinacious.  I  spoke  to 
222 


OLD   DIBS 

the  king  about  it,  and  Old  Dibs  he  complained  to 
losefo,  but  it  only  seemed  to  whoop  it  up  and  add 
to  the  procession.  The  king  said  if  he'd  just  flute 
in  one  place,  he  would  put  a  taboo  around  it  which 
neither  children  nor  grown-ups  would  cross;  but 
Old  Dibs  said  that  the  looking  on,  even  from  a 
distance,  would  be  quite  as  disturbing  as  being 
sprawled  all  over;  and  so  the  children  followed 
him  unabated. 

Then  I  had  a  happy  thought,  and  suggested  the 
graveyard !  This  was  a  walled-in  inclosure,  per 
haps  a  hundred  feet  each  way,  on  the  weather  side 
of  the  island,  and  on  a  windy  day,  with  the  surf 
thundering  in,  it  was  the  lonesomest  spot  where  a 
man  could  find  himself.  The  natives  left  it  alone 
at  all  times,  except  to  bury  somebody,  and  none 
of  them  came  nearer  to  it  than  they  could  help. 
The  Kanakas  have  a  powerful  dread  of  spirits,  and 
even  in  the  daytime  they'd  give  the  place  a  wide 
berth.  The  walls,  too,  being  about  seven  feet  high, 
prevented  the  children  from  peeking  in,  except  at 
the  gateway,  which  was  so  narrow  that  it  was  easy 
to  get  out  of  view. 

Old  Dibs  perked  up  at  this  and  cottoned  to  the 
idea  tremendous;  and  the  graveyard  soon  become 
his  regular  stamping  ground,  except  when  there 
was  a  funeral.  He  rigged  up  a  little  shelter  for 
himself  in  the  center,  with  a  music  stand  I  made 
for  him  out  of  scantling;  and  often  he  took  his 
223 


WILD   JUSTICE 


lunch  in  his  pocket  and  spent  the  whole  day.  Not 
a  child  ventured  to  show  himself,  and  he  had  it 
as  much  to  himself  as  though  he  owned  it;  and 
he  could  lay  his  stovepipe  down  now  without  any 
fear  of  its  being  greased  up  or  sat  on.  It  led  to 
his  asking  a  raft  of  questions  about  the  natives  and 
their  superstitions,  and  how  none  of  them  ventured 
to  go  near  the  place  unless  in  a  big  party.  He 
came  back  to  that  again  and  again,  and  always 
with  the  same  interest.  I  ought  to  have  suspected 
what  was  running  in  his  head,  but  I  didn't.  In 
fack,  we  had  all  settled  down  now  like  we  had 
always  lived  together,  and  I  didn't  bother  any  more 
about  him,  or  what  he  said  or  did,  than  if  he  had 
been  my  wife's  father!  It  was  a  good  deal  like 
having  a  rich  uncle  to  stay  with  you,  and  after  the 
first  excitement  you  took  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Even  losefo,  sitting  on  the  trunk  in  the  bed 
room,  became  one  of  them  things  that  ran  into 
habit;  and  in  some  ways  it  was  a  good  idea,  too, 
for  it  brought  custom  to  the  store,  what  with  the 
deacons  coming  over  to  talk  about  church  affairs, 
and  the  Committee  on  Ways  and  Means  meeting 
there  regular.  Even  the  gold  twenty  every  week 
settled  down  in  the  same  channel  of  routine,  and  I 
didn't  bite  it  any  more,  as  I  used  to  do,  nor  hold 
it  in  my  hand  wondering  where  it  come  from.  I 
just  put  it  away  with  the  rest  and  thought  no  more 
about  it.  The  only  concern  of  me  and  Sarah  was 
224 


OLD   DIBS 

to  feed  up  the  old  fellow  to  the  best  of  our  ability 
and  try  and  make  him  pleased. 

We  had  been  running  along  like  this  for  I  don't 
know  how  long,  when  one  night,  toward  the  small 
hours,  a  singular  thing  happened.  I  was  sleeping 
very  light,  and  I  woke  up  all  of  a  sudden  and  saw 
Old  Dibs  standing  in  the  doorway!  He  had  a 
candle  in  his  hand  and  bulked  up  enormous  in  his 
red  silk  dressing  gown,  and  there  was  a  wild  look 
on  his  unshaved  face. 

I  held  my  breath  and  watched  him  through  my 
half-shut  eyes — watched  him  for  quite  a  spell,  till 
he  softly  tiptoed  away  again  in  his  naked  feet,  and 
I  heard  the  door  close  behind  him  in  the  house.  I 
waited  a  long  while  wondering  what  to  do,  and 
what  there  could  be  in  the  boatshed  to  bring  him 
out  at  such  an  unlikely  hour.  At  first  I  was  for 
getting  my  rifle  and  sitting  up  the  balance  of  the 
night;  but  then,  as  I  waked  up  more  and  tried  to 
think  it  out,  it  seemed  that  he  had  a  better  right  to 
be  afraid  of  me  than  me  of  him.  It  couldn't  be 
to  do  me  no  harm,  I  reckoned,  but  probably  to 
assure  himself  that  I  was  asleep. 

He  was  plainly  up  to  something,  and  it  was 
equally  plain  he  didn't  want  me  to  know  it.  So 
I  got  out  of  bed — if  you  can  call  a  stack  of  mats 
and  a  schooner's  topsail  a  bed — and  lit  out  to  see 
what  was  doing.  It  was  no  good  trying  to  get 
into  the  house,  for  Old  Dibs  had  nailed  the  keys 
225 


WILD   JUSTICE 


and  handed  them  out  every  morning  through  the 
winder  when  I  went  to  take  him  his  shaving  water. 
But  the  curtains  of  the  bedroom  weren't  extra  close, 
and  if  I  could  get  up  on  the  veranda  without  too 
much  of  a  creaking  I  knew  I  could  see  in  all  right. 
There's  a  lot  of  cat  in  a  sailor,  even  to  the  nine 
lives  and  the  dislike  of  getting  wet,  and  I  was  soon 
on  my  knees  at  the  sill,  taking  in  the  performance. 

The  room  was  lit  up  as  usual,  and  all  the  big 
five  trunks  were  open,  with  Old  Dibs  diving  into 
them  like  he  was  packing  for  the  morning  train. 
Leastways,  that  was  my  first  thought;  the  second 
was,  that  something  stranger  than  that  was  up, 
and  that  people  didn't  usually  go  traveling  with 
an  outfit  of  pinkish  paper  cut  into  shavings.  You've 
seen  them,  haven't  you? — the  kind  of  packing  they 
put  into  music  boxes,  fine  toys,  and  the  like,  flum- 
moxy  twisted  paper  ravelings  that  protect  the  var 
nish  and  have  no  weight  to  speak  of.  Well,  that 
was  what  was  in  them  trunks,  and  Old  Dibs  was 
pawing  it  out  till  it  stuck  up  in  the  room,  yards 
high,  like  a  mountain.  Occasionally  he  seemed  to 
strike  something  harder  than  paper — something 
that  would  take  both  his  hands  to  lift — and  it  was 
only  a  little  clinking  canvas  bag  that  big. 

Money  ?  Of  course  it  was  money !  And  he  was 
stacking  it  in  a  leather  dress-suit  case  laid  on  the 
floor  next  his  bed. 

You  could  see  he  was  nervous  by  the  way  he 
226 


OLD   DIBS 

kept  looking  behind  him ;  and  once,  when  a  rat 
ran  across  the  attic,  he  jumped  awful  and  the  whole 
floor  shook.  It  was  a  queer  sensation  to  look  right 
into  a  man's  eyes  and  him  not  see  you,  which  I 
did  with  Old  Dibs  again  and  again  as  he'd  stop 
and  listen.  I  ought  to  have  said  that  one  of  the 
trunks  was  clothes  all  right,  but  even  here  there 
was  three  or  four  bags  of  coin,  which  he  got  out 
and  added  to  the  others. 

Then  he  counted  the  bags  and  tried  to  turn  the 
top  of  the  suit  case  on  them,  but  couldn't  manage 
it.  He  arranged  them  first  this  way  and  then  that 
way,  but  there  was  always  about  a  dozen  outstand 
ing.  The  canvas  itself  was  very  coarse,  and  there 
was  lots  to  spare,  the  slack  being  turned  over  and 
over,  and  tied  with  heavy  twine  extra.  Then  he 
took  them  all  out,  and  slitting  them  open,  just  let 
the  stuff  rip  naked. 

Lord !  but  it  was  a  dandy  sight,  a  dazzle  of  double 
eagles  cascading  like  a  river,  and  so  swift  that  you 
couldn't  pretend  to  count  them!  He  seemed  satis 
fied  to  go  on  like  that,  cutting  one  open  after  the 
other,  till  the  suit  case  brimmed  up  solid.  There 
was  fifty-eight  bags  in  all,  and  the  Lord  only  knows 
how  much  in  each;  but,  as  I  said,  it  took  both  his 
hands  to  lift  a  single  one.  I  reckon  I  didn't  know 
there  was  so  much  money  in  all  the  world,  and  it 
came  over  me  afresh  how  fond  I  was  of  Old  Dibs, 
and  how  good  I  was  going  to  be  to  him. 
227 


When  the  last  bag  was  emptied  he  thought  he'd 
put  back  the  suit  case  into  one  of  the  trunks,  never 
recollecting  that  he  might  as  well  have  tried  to 
lift  a  locomotive.  Then  he  laid  hands  on  just  the 
handle  at  one  end,  and  he  couldn't  even  shift  it. 
You  disremember  how  heavy  gold  is,  seeing  so 
little  of  it,  and  counting  a  hundred  dollars  a  for 
tune.  But  he  had  there,  considering  the  trunks 
weighed  the  usual  amount,  say  about  a  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  each,  and  gold  at  nearly  twenty 
dollars  an  ounce — well,  the  next  day  Tom  worked 
it  out  to  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars. 

Think  of  it!  With  nothing  between  it  and  me 
but  some  chicken  wire  and  an  old  gentleman  in  a 
dressing  gown!  It  would  have  seemed  a  snap  to 
some  people,  but  I  never  made  a  dishonest  dollar 
in  my  life — except  in  the  way  of  trade,  and  then 
it  was  to  natives  (who  water  copra  on  you  and 
square  the  difference)  ;  and  he  was  in  no  more 
danger  of  harm  than  if  it  had  been  Lima  beans. 

Then — to  get  along  with  my  yarn — he  took  the 
comforter  off  the  bed,  and  setting  it  down  flat  on 
the  floor,  begun  to  cover  it  with  double  handfuls 
ranged  in  rows;  till  he  had  worked  down  the  suit 
case  to  where  he  could  lift  it.  He  carried  it  over 
to  the  nearest  trunk,  placed  it  snug  in  the  bottom, 
and  started  to  load  it  up  again  from  the  stacks  on 
the  quilt.  I  don't  know  how  long  he  took  to  do  it, 
228 


OLD  DIBS 

but  it  was  quite  a  time,  and  he  looked  pretty  well 
tired  out  when  it  was  over,  and  he  sat  back  in  the 
rocker -and  rocked — me  still  glued  at  the  winder — 
and  he  reached  out  for  his  flute  and  put  it  to  his 
lips  (though  he  didn't  blow  into  it),  and  worked 
his  fingers  like  he  was  playing  a  piece.  After  a 
time  he  laid  it  down,  and  drawing  his  dressing 
gown  closer  around  him,  took  another  go  at  filling 
up  the  trunks  again  with  the  paper  packing. 

This  seemed  a  good  time  for  me  to  skip,  which 
I  did  more  cautious  than  ever,  my  heart  beating 
that  loud  I  wonder  he  didn't  hear  me.  I  felt  for 
my  pipe  in  the  dark,  and  went  out  under  the  stars 
to  the  edge  of  the  lagoon,  to  think  it  all  over.  You 
might  wonder  what  I  had  to  do  with  it  unless  it 
was  to  make  away  with  him  and  scoop  the  pool 
for  me  and  Tom;  but,  as  I  said  before,  I  wasn't 
that  kind  of  a  man,  and  millions  wouldn't  have 
made  no  difference.  But  I  was  in  a  sort  of  tremble 
for  the  old  fellow  himself,  for  what  was  he  doing 
alone  with  it  in  the  far  Pacific,  unless  there  were 
others  after  him,  hotfoot? 

Wherever  there's  a  carcass  there's  sharks  to  eat 
it,  though  you  may  have  sailed  a  week  and  not 
seen  a  fin;  and  human  sharks  have  the  longest 
scent  of  any,  especially  when  they  have  the  law  on 
their  side  and  courts  of  justice  behind  them.  I 
wanted  to  keep  the  money  in  the  family,  so  to 
speak,  and  I  was  not  only  unwilling  to  harm  Old 
229 


WILD   JUSTICE 


Dibs  myself,  but  I  didn't  want  no  others  to  harm 
him  neither. 

I  talked  it  over  with  Tom  next  morning,  till  the 
eyes  nearly  bulged  out  of  his  head.  Tom  was  less 
of  a  pirate  even  than  me,  but  he  had  to  have  his 
fling  in  fancy,  being,  as  I  said,  one  of  them  natural- 
born  yarners,  and  he  never  got  back  to  earth  till 
we  had  poisoned  Old  Dibs  (wavering  between 
Rough  on  Rats  and  powdered  glass),  covered  up 
all  traces  of  the  crime,  divided  the  money  equal, 
and  sailed  away  West  in  his  five-ton  cutter,  to 
bring  up  at  last  in  one  of  the  Line  islands.  After 
arranging  it  all  to  the  last  dot,  even  to  the  name 
of  our  ninety-ton  schooner,  and  the  very  bank  in 
Sydney  where  we'd  lay  the  stuff  in  our  joint  names, 
he  said  there  was  only  one  thing  to  do,  and  that 
was  to  warn  Old  Dibs,  and  arrange  some  kind  of 
a  scheme  to  protect  him. 

"  They  are  bound  to  run  him  down,"  said  Tom. 
"  A  man  that  skips  out  with  nothing,  and  a  man 
that  skips  out  with  a  quarter  of  a  million,  are  in 
two  different  classes;  and  it  wouldn't  surprise  me 
the  least  bit  if  there  was  six  ships  aiming  for  Mani- 
hiki  simultaneous." 

By  the  time  I  started  back  to  find  Old  Dibs  I 
was  worked  up  to  quite  a  fever,  and  I'd  keep  look 
ing  over  my  shoulder  expecting  every  minute  to 
see  one  of  them  six  ships  in  the  pass.  He  had 
finished  breakfast  and  had  gone,  and  so  I  followed 
230 


OLD   DIBS 

him  over  to  the  weather  side,  where,  as  usual,  he 
was  sitting  under  his  tarpaulin  in  the  graveyard, 
tootling  for  all  he  was  worth.  He  looked  up,  a 
little  surprised  to  see  me,  and  I  guess  ships  were 
running  through  his  head  also,  for  that  was  his 
first  question. 

I  sat  down  on  a  near-by  grave. 

"  The  fack  is,  Mr.  Smith,"  I  said,  very  mean 
ingly,  "  you  paid  me  a  little  visit  last  night  and  I 
paid  you  one." 

"  Oh,  my  God ! "  he  said,  turning  whiter  than 
paper,  and  the  voice  coming  out  of  him  like  an 
old  man's. 

"  There's  no  '  my  God '  about  it,"  I  said.  "  But 
me  and  Tom  Riley's  been  talking  it  over,  and  we'd 
like  to  bear  a  hand  to  help  you." 

"  It's  mine,"  he  said,  very  defiant,  and  trem 
bling.  "  It's  mine,  every  penny  of  it,  and  honest 
come  by." 

"  No  doubt,"  I  said,  "  but  would  I  be  guessing 
wrong  if  there  were  others  who  didn't  think  so  ?  " 

"  There  are  others,"  he  said  at  last,  seeing,  I 
suppose,  that  my  face  looked  friendly,  and  realizing 
that  me  and  Tom  would  hardly  take  this  tack  if 
we  meant  to  massacre  him  in  his  sleep. 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  I  said,  "  you  never  had  two  better 
friends  than  Bill  Hargus  or  Tom  Riley." 

He  laid  down  his  flute. 

"  I'd  never  feel  in  any  danger  with  that  good 
231 


WILD   JUSTICE 


wife  of  yours  about,"  he  said.  It  didn't  seem  quite 
the  right  remark  under  the  circumstance,  but  there 
was  a  power  of  truth  back  of  it.  That  girl  of 
mine  was  regularly  struck  on  Old  Dibs,  and,  being 
a  Tongan,  was  full  of  the  Old  Nick,  and  would 
have  bit  my  ear  off  if  I  had  lifted  my  hand  to 
him.  The  two  of  them  had  patched  up  an  adoption 
arrangement,  him  being  her  father,  and  she  used 
to  play  suipi  with  him,  and  taught  him  to  repeat 
Psalms  in  native.  It's  only  another  proof  how 
women  are  the  same  everywhere,  and  how  far  it 
goes  with  them  to  be  treated  with  a  little  respeck 
and  consideration. 

"  You  have  a  plan?  "  he  says.  "  Well,  Bill,  what 
is  it?" 

"It's  a  plan  to  get  a  plan,"  I  said.  "What 
chance  would  you  have  as  things  are  now?" 

"  Chance  ?  "  he  inquires. 

"  You'd  be  in  irons  and  aboard,  before  you'd 
know  what  had  happened  to  you,"  I  said. 

He  looked  at  me  a  long  time  and  then  heaved  a 
sigh. 

"I'd  do  for  myself  first,"  he  said.  "They'll 
never  put  me  in  the  dock  so  long  as  I  have  a  pistol 
and  the  will  to  use  it  on  myself." 

"  I  think  me  and  Tom  could  improve  on  that," 
said  I. 

"  This  island's  too  small  to  hide  in,"  he  said. 
"  No  background,"  he  said.  "  I  w?s  looking  for 
232 


OLD    DIBS 

a  place  where  there  was  mountains  and  inland 
country — and  maybe  caves." 

"  You  never  could  make  a  success  of  it  by  your 
self,"  I  said.  "  You  couldn't  in  an  island  made  to 
order,  with  electric  buttons  and  trapdoors  let  into 
the  granite.  But  me  and  you  and  Tom  might,  and 
if  you've  the  mind  to,  we  will." 

He  was  kind  of  over  his  panic  by  this  time,  and 
I  guess  he  saw  the  sense  of  it  all. 

"  Bill,"  he  said,  "  it's  a  weight  off  my  mind  to 
have  you  know  the  truth.  Fetch  along  Tom,  and 
I'll  do  anything  you  two  say,  for  I've  nearly  split 
my  old  head  trying  to  find  a  way  out;  but  what 
could  I  do  single  handed  ?  " 

"  Tom's  a  corker,"  I  said.  "  He's  got  an  imag 
ination  like  a  box  factory.  If  I  was  in  a  tight  place 
like  yours,  I'd  sail  the  world  around  just  to  find 
Tom  Riley." 

"  Let's  call  him  in,  then,"  he  says,  "  for,  as  things 
are  now,  if  they  should  strike  this  island,  I'm  a 
dead  man !  "  And  with  that  he  took  up  his  flute 
again  and  fluted  very  thoughtful  and  low,  while  I 
made  a  line  for  Tom's  station. 

Tom  was  as  happy  as  a  lawyer  with  his  first  case. 
He  hurried  along,  with  a  bottle  of  beer  in  each 
pocket  and  a  memorandum  book  to  write  in,  and 
just  gloried  in  the  whole  business.  It  was  like  one 
of  his  own  yarns  come  true,  and  he  had  to  pinch 
himself  to  make  sure  he  wasn't  dreaming.  He  took 

233 


WILD   JUSTICE 


hold  right  off;  and  it  was  pleasant  to  watch  Old 
Dibs  setting  back  on  a  grave,  with  the  comfortable 
air  of  a  man  that's  being  taken  charge  of  by  ex 
perts.  I  won't  go  into  all  that  we  arranged  and 
didn't  do,  it  being  enough  to  say  what  we  did,  Tom 
beginning  a  bit  wild  about  putting  contact  mines 
in  the  channel  and  importing  a  submarine  boat 
from  Sydney,  and  coming  down  gradual  to  what 
the  poet  calls  human  nature's  daily  food.  This 
was,  to  rig  a  platform  in  a  giant  fao  tree  that  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  island,  about  three  miles  down 
the  coast,  and  fix  it  up  with  food  and  things,  for 
Old  Dibs  to  camp  in. 

The  idea  was  to  hide  him  till  dark  in  the  attic 
of  my  house,  and  then  to  put  him  up  the  tree  for 
as  long  as  the  ship  stayed  by  us.  Tom  said  I  could 
easily  stand  off  my  house  being  searched  for  a  few 
hours,  even  if  it  was  a  man-of-war  that  come,  tell 
ing  them  they  might  do  it  to-morrow.  Then  Tom 
said  we'd  have  to  take  losefo,  the  native  pastor, 
into  it  part  way,  making  him  preach  from  the  pulpit 
and  order  the  people  to  deny  all  knowledge  of  Old 
Dibs  if  they  were  asked  questions  about  him  by 
strangers.  Tom  said  the  important  thing  was  to 
gain  the  first  day's  start;  for  though  it  wasn't  in 
reason  to  expect  the  whole  island,  man,  woman, 
and  child,  to  keep  the  secret,  we  might  be  pretty 
sure  it  wouldn't  leak  out  under  twenty-four  hours. 
Then,  last  of  all,  we  were  to  make  away  with  all 
234 


OLD   DIBS 

Old  Dibs's  trunks,  packing  what  clothes  he  had, 
and  that  into  camphor-wood  chests,  which  would 
occasion  no  remark,  specially  if  they  were  covered 
over  on  the  top  with  trade  dresses  and  hats,  and 
such  like. 

Old  Dibs  liked  it  all  tiptop,  and,  more  than 
anything,  Tom's  honest,  willing  face;  but  he  shied 
a  bit  when  we  walked  along  to  the  tree  in  question, 
and  looked  up  sixty  feet  into  the  sky,  where  he  was 
to  hang  out  on  his  little  raft. 

"  Good  heavens,  Riley !  "  he  says,  "  do  you  take 
me  for  a  bird,  or  what?" 

But  Tom  talked  him  round,  showing  how  we'd 
rig  a  boatswain's  chair  on  a  tackle,  and  a  sort  of 
rustic  monkey-rail  to  keep  him  from  being  dizzy, 
and  had  an  answer  ready  for  every  one  of  old  Dibs's 
criticisms.  Tom  and  me,  having  been  seafaring 
men,  couldn't  see  no  trouble  about  it,  and  the  only 
thing  to  consider  serious  was  how  much  the  plat 
form  might  show  through  the  trees,  and  whether  or 
not  the  upper  boughs  were  strong  enough  to  hold. 
We  went  up  to  make  sure,  straddling  out  on  them, 
and  bobbing  up  and  down,  and  choosing  a  couple 
of  nice  forks  for  where  we'd  lay  the  main  cross- 
piece.  Tom  tied  his  handkerchief  around  a  likely 
bough,  to  mark  the  place  for  the  block  and  give 
us  a  clean  hoist  from  below,  and  we  both  come 
down  very  cheerful  with  the  prospect. 

Old   Dibs  seemed  less  gay  about  it,  and  bad 

235 


WILD   JUSTICE 


thought  up  a  lot  of  fresh  objections ;  but  Tom  said 
there  was  only  one  thing  to  worry  about,  and  that 
was  whether  the  whole  concern  wouldn't  show 
plain  against  the  sky.  We  got  off  a  ways  to  take 
a  look,  and  very  unsatisfying  it  was,  too.  A  big, 
leafy  tree  seems  a  mighty  solid  affair,  till  you  stand 
off  and  look  right  through  it;  and  Old  Dibs  was 
for  giving  up  the  idea  and  trying  the  cellar,  which 
was  Tom's  other  notion.  But  the  tree  business 
appealed  to  Tom  more,  and  he  explained  how  we'd 
paint  the  contraption  green,  and  how  people,  when 
they  were  walking,  never  looked  up,  but  ahead; 
and  how  unwholesome  a  cellar  would  be,  and  likely 
to  give  Old  Dibs  the  rheumatics;  not  to  speak  of 
pigs  rooting  him  out,  and  no  air  to  speak  of. 

"  Then  think  of  the  view,"  said  Tom,  who  was 
as  happy  as  a  sand  boy  and  in  a  bully  humor,  "  and 
so  close  to  the  stars,  Mr.  Smith,  that  you  can  pick 
them  down  for  lights  to  your  cigar !  " 

Old  Dibs  smiled  a  sickly  smile,  like  he  was  un 
bending  to  a  pair  of  kids. 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,  then,  Riley,"  says  he, 
"  but  you're  responsible  for  the  thing  being  a  suc 
cess,  and  don't  look  for  me  to  dance  tight  ropes 
or  do  monkey  on  a  stick." 

"  I'd  engage  to  put  a  cow  up  there,"  said 
Tom,  not  overpolite,  though  he  meant  no  harm, 
"  or  a  parlor  organ,  with  the  young  lady  to 
play  it." 

236 


OLD   DIBS 

"Mr.  Smith,"  said  I,  "you'll  only  need  shut 
your  eyes  and  trust  to  us,  and  take  it  all  as  it 
comes." 

"  Boys,"  said  Old  Dibs,  kind  of  solemn  and  help- 
lesslike,  "  you'll  do  the  square  thing  by  me,  won't 
you  ?  You  won't  sell  an  old  man  for  blood  money  ? 
You  won't  get  me  up  there  and  then  strike  a  trade 
with  them  that's  tracking  me  down  ?  " 

You  ought  to  have  seen  Tom  Riley's  face  at  that ! 
I  was  afraid  there  would  be  a  bust-up  then  and 
there.  But  all  he  did  was  to  walk  faster  ahead, 
like  he  didn't  care  to  talk  to  us  any  more,  and  gave 
us  the  broad  of  his  back.  Old  Dibs  ran  after 
him  and  caught  his  arm,  panting  out  he  was  sorry 
and  all  that,  and  how  Tom  was  to  put  himself  in 
his  place,  with  the  whole  world  banded  against 
him.  I  felt  sorry  to  see  the  old  fellow  eating  dirt, 
and  trotting  along  so  fat  and  wheezy,  with  Tom 
almost  pushing  him  off  like  a  beggar,  and  it  was 
like  spring  sunshine  when  Tom  turned  square 
around  and  said: 

"  Hell !  that's  all  right,  Mr.  Smith."  And  I  guess 
it  was  Old  Dibs's  face  that  needed  watching,  it 
was  beaming  and  happy,  specially  when  they  shook 
hands  on  it,  and  we  all  three  walked  along  abreast, 
like  a  father  and  his  two  sons  on  the  way  to  the 
bar. 

Tom  didn't  let  grass  grow  under  his  feet,  and 
he  went  at  it  all  with  a  rush,  beginning  first  of 

237 


WILD   JUSTICE 


all  with  losefo,  the  Kanaka  pastor.  Natives  are 
never  so  helpful  and  willing  as  when  you're  egging 
them  on  to  do  something  they  shouldn't,  and  he 
fell  in  with  the  preaching  idea,  and  wanted  to  start 
right  away.  But  they  finally  decided  it  had  better 
be  a  monthly  affair,  so  the  natives  shouldn't  lose 
track  of  it,  and  losefo  commenced  the  first  Sunday. 
Anybody  that  gave  away  Old  Dibs  was  to  have 
his  house  burned  in  this  world  and  his  soul  in  the 
next;  and  losefo  laid  it  on  thick  about  our  all 
loving  him,  and  what  a  friend  he  has  proved  him 
self  to  the  island;  and  when  he  reached  the  point 
where  he  announced  that  Old  Dibs  had  contributed 
fifty  dollars  toward  the  fund  for  the  new  church, 
you  could  feel  a  rustle  go  through  the  whole  con 
gregation,  and  a  general  gasp  of  satisfaction.  lo 
sefo  drew  a  fancy  picture  of  Judas  hanging  him 
self,  and  brought  it  up  to  date  with  Old  Dibs,  and 
what  a  scaly  thing  it  was  to  do  anyway.  He  let 
himself  rip  in  all  directions,  even  to  the  persecu 
tions  in  what  he  called  the  White  Country,  which 
he  said  Old  Dibs  had  endured  for  religion's  sake, 
and  how  he  had  been  thrown  to  the  lions  in  the 
Colossium. 

Old  Dibs  sat  there  as  smug  as  smug,  little  know 
ing  how  the  agony  was  being  piled  on  his  bald 
head;  and  just  when  losefo  was  making  him  cow 
the  lions  with  a  glance,  Old  Dibs  took  the  specs 
off  his  nose  and  wiped  them,  while  everybody  was 
238 


OLD   DIBS 

worked  up  tremendous  to  know  whether  he  had 
been  eat  or  not.  losefo  was  no  slouch  when  he 
once  got  his  hand  in,  and  carried  it  over  to  the 
next  number  like  a  story  in  a  magazine,  the  Kana 
kas  all  going  out  buzzing,  wishing  it  was  Sunday 
week,  and  eyeing  Old  Dibs  with  veneration. 

The  platform  was  number  two  on  the  list,  and 
me  and  Tom,  with  the  measurements  we  had  taken 
in  the  tree,  made  a  very  neat  job  of  it,  and  painted 
it  green  topside  and  bottom.  We  laid  it  together 
in  Tom's  shed,  and  got  in  Old  Dibs  to  see  if  it 
would  fit  him,  which  it  did  beautiful,  being  six 
foot  six  by  two  and  a  half.  Tom  explained  we'd 
put  a  natty  railing  around  it,  likewise  painted  green, 
and  carry  a  width  of  fine  netting  below,  so  that 
pillows  or  things  shouldn't  slip  overboard.  Tom 
was  hurt  at  Old  Dibs  not  being  more  enthusiastic, 
and  finally  said :  "  Hell !  Mr.  Smith,  what  are  you 
sticking  at  ?  " 

"  It'll  never  sustain  the  coin,"  said  Old  Dibs, 
jouncing  up  and  down  on  it  like  a  dancing  hippo 
potamus. 

"You  weren't  meaning  to  take  that  up,  too?" 
cries  Tom. 

"  I  thought  that  was  part  of  the  scheme  ?  "  said 
Old  Dibs.  "  Why,  you  said  a  whole  cow  yourself. 
Didn't  he,  Bill?" 

This  was  a  facer  for  Tom,  but  all  he  asked  was 
how  much  money  there  was. 

239 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"  It  weighs  hundreds  of  pounds,"  said  Old  Dibs, 
very  sly,  and  not  wanting  to  name  figgers. 

We  neither  of  us  could  very  well  blame  the  old 
gentleman  for  not  wanting  to  trust  us  with  a  quar 
ter  of  a  million  dollars  while  he  was  up  a  tree  like 
a  canary  bird;  and  so  Tom  or  I  didn't  say  what 
was  in  our  minds,  which  was  to  bury  it  some- 
wheres.  In  fact,  there  was  a  longish  silence,  till 
I  suggested  using  some  two-inch  iron  pipe  I  had 
at  home,  instead  of  the  light  boat  spars  Tom  had 
cut  for  the  purpose. 

"  And  as  for  the  money,"  said  I,  "  why  not  have 
a  locker  for  it  at  each  end,  with  the  weight  resting 
against  the  forks,  and  maybe  a  little  room  extra 
for  Mr.  Smith's  toothbrush  and  toilet  tackle  ? " 
I  minded  the  size  of  the  suit  case  I  had  last  seen 
the  stuff  in,  and  showed  Tom  about  what  was 
wanted. 

"  But  that'll  cut  him  off  at  each  end,"  objected 
Tom,  looking  at  Old  Dibs  like  he  was  measuring 
him  for  a  coffin,  "  and  you  know  yourself  six  foot 
six  is  the  most  we  can  allow." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  shortening  up  a  bit/'  said 
Old  Dibs,  laying  down  to  show  how  easy  it  might 
be  done,  and  eager  to  be  accommodating. 

"And  I'd  propose  chicken  wire  instead  of  net," 
says  I  to  Tom,  noticing  how  the  old  gentleman 
bulked  outboard.  "  He's  putting  a  strain  on  that 
worse  nor  a  live  shark." 

240 


OLD   DIBS 

Tom  said  he  thought  so,  too,  and  him  and  I  put 
in  half  a  day  making  the  platform  over,  while  Old 
Dibs  crossed  over  to  the  graveyard  and  fluted  away 
the  rest  of  the  afternoon.  We  waited  for  the  full 
moon  before  getting  it  into  the  tree,  for  daytime 
was  out  of  the  question,  and  Tom  and  I  managed 
it  very  well,  and  to  both  our  satisfaction.  The 
tropic  moon  is  a  whale  of  a  moon,  and  you  can 
almost  see  to  read  by  it,  and  it  wasn't  the  want 
of  light  that  bothered  us  any.  The  trouble  was 
more  to  get  it  level  and  lash  it  proper  with  zinc 
wire.  But  we  finished  it  up  in  style,  with  a  second 
coat  of  green  paint  everywhere  except  the  bottom, 
and,  though  I  do  say  it  myself,  it  was  as  snug  a 
little  crow's  nest,  and  as  comfortable  and  strong, 
as  though  it  had  been  made  by  people  regularly  in 
the  business.  We  rigged  the  tackle,  too,  and  tried 
out  the  Manila  rope  with  the  boatswain's  chair, 
and  would  have  sent  up  Old  Dibs  on  a  trial  trip 
if  we  hadn't  feared  he'd  never  make  another.  So 
we  let  it  go  at  that,  he  paying  us  one  hundred  dol 
lars  for  our  trouble,  and  expressing  himself  mighty 
well  pleased. 

I  reckon  perhaps  he  was,  for  we  fixed  up  the 
attic,  too,  and  had  everything  in  train  so  that  there 
wouldn't  be  no  hitch  when  the  time  come.  Tom 
got  kind  of  sore  waiting  for  it,  for  after  having 
put  so  much  work  into  the  thing  he  naturally 
wanted  to  see  it  used,  and  it  galled  him  to  wait 
241 


WILD   JUSTICE 


and  wait,  with  nothing  doing.  But  Old  Dibs  took 
it  more  cheerful,  and  minded  a  good  deal  less  about 
its  being  wasted;  and  as  the  months  run  on,  he 
seemed  to  think  he  was  out  of  the  woods,  and 
perked  up  wonderful. 

Not  that  he  wasn't  careful,  of  course,  or  that 
losefo  let  down  on  the  preaching;  for  nobody 
could  be  sure  what  day  or  what  minute  the  pinch 
mightn't  come.  He  grew  quite  familiar  with  the 
attic  part  of  it,  scooting  up  there  whenever  we 
raised  a  sail,  and  remaining  for  days  at  a  time 
when  a  ship  was  in  port.  We  had  a  fair  number 
of  them,  off  and  on — the  missionary  bark,  the 
Equator,  Captain  Reid ;  the  Lorelei,  Captain  Saxe ; 
the  Ransom*  Captain  Mins ;  the  Belle  Brandon, 
Captain  Cole;  the  brigantine  Trenton,  in  ballast, 
calling  in  to  set  her  rigging;  the  cutter  Ulysses, 
with  supplies  for  Washington  Island,  and  the  Sev 
enth-Day  Adventist  schooner  Pitcairn,  with  her 
mate  dying  of  some  kind  of  sickness.  They  buried 
him  ashore,  and  then  went  out  again,  after  giving 
us  the  precise  date  at  which  the  world  was  coming 
to  an  end,  and  saying  what  a  hell  of  a  poor  millen 
nium  it  was  going  to  be  for  anybody  save  them\ 
Oh,  yes,  the  usual  straggle  of  vessels  that  hap 
pened  our  way,  with  months  between;  and,  once, 
the  smoke  of  a  steamer  on  the  horizon. 

Perhaps  a  matter  of  eighteen  months  altogether 
since  Old  Dibs  first  landed,  and  day  followed  day, 


OLD    DIBS 

like  it  might  have  gone  on  forever.  One  wouldn't 
have  remarked  any  particular  change  in  him,  ex 
cept  that  his  rig  was  getting  shabbier  and  the  shine 
was  coming  off  the  stovepipe — and  perhaps  some 
improvement  in  the  flute.  This,  an  extra  bulk, 
and  a  kind  of  contented  look  he  hadn't  wore  be 
fore,  was  what  life  on  the  island  had  done  for 
Old  Dibs;  and  he  branched  out  a  bit  in  the  line 
of  household  favorite,  cutting  kindling  wood  for 
Sarah,  gutting  fish,  scraping  cocoanut  for  the 
chickens ;  and  the  pair  of  them  would  sit  and  gossip 
for  hours  about  the  neighbors — how  Taalolo  had 
driven  his  wife  out  of  doors,  and  the  true  inward 
ness  of  the  king's  quarrel  with  Ve'a,  and  why  the 
Toto  family  was  in  ambush  to  cut  off  Tehea's  nose. 
He  could  talk  better  native  than  I  could,  and  he 
was  made  a  pet  of  everywhere  around  the  settle 
ment,  and  there  was  seldom  a  pig  killed  but  what 
they'd  bring  him  the  head  out  of  respeck.  Not 
that  he  wasn't  as  regular  as  ever  at  the  graveyard ; 
but  he  had  kind  of  shook  in,  so  to  speak,  and  no 
body  gave  a  feast  but  what  he  sat  at  the  right 
hand  and  divided  honors  with  the  pastor  and  the 
king. 

One  afternoon,  from  the  bench,  I  heard  them 
raise  a  cry  of  "  Pahi,  Pahi,"  and  I  run  out  of 
the  copra-shed,  where  I  was  weighing,  to  see  a 
schooner  heading  in.  She  was  a  smart-looking 
little  vessel  of  fifty  or  sixty  tons,  and  she  come 

243 


WILD  JUSTICE 


up  hand  over  hand,  making  a  running  mooring 
off  the  settlement.  Tom  and  I  was  waiting  for 
her  in  a  canoe,  Old  Dibs  meanwhile  climbing  into 
the  attic  and  dropping  the  trapdoor,  with  "  Under 
Two  Flags  "  and  a  lamp  to  support  the  tedium. 
That  was  getting  to  be  routine  now,  and  his  last; 
words  were  to  buy  all  the  books  and  papers  we 
could  lay  our  hands  on,  and  not  forget  Sarah's 
list  of  stores  she  was  out  of.  Bless  my  soul!  he 
was  always  mindful  of  them  things,  and  it  was 
always  carte  blanche  in  the  trade  room  for  any 
thing  she  fancied. 

Well,  we  climbed  aboard,  and  they  told  us  she 
was  the  Sydney  pilot  boat  Minnie,  under  charter 
to  two  gentlemen  aboard  who  had  an  option  on 
one  of  Arundel's  guano  islands.  They  had  struck 
a  leak  in  their  main  water  tank,  and  were  in  for 
repairs  and  filling  up  fresh. 

Tom  and  me  got  more  of  a  welcome  than  seemed 
quite  right,  captains  usually  being  shortish  with 
traders  till  the  gaskets  are  on;  but  in  this  case  it 
was  all  so  damn  friendly  that  I  nudged  Tom  and 
Tom  nudged  me.  We  all  trooped  below  to  have 
a  drink  in  the  cabin,  and  the  two  guano  gentle 
men  were  introduced  to  us,  and  likewise  another 
they  called  their  bookkeeper.  All  three  of  them 
were  hulking  big  men,  very  breezy  and  well  spoken, 
with  more  the  manner  of  recruiting  sergeants  soft- 
sawdering  you  to  enlist  than  the  ways  of  people 
244 


OLD   DIBS 

high  up  in  business.  Mr.  Phelps,  who  took  the 
lead,  did  several  things  to  make  me  chew  on,  and 
he  shivered  over  his  "  h's  "  like  he  had  been  brought 
up  originally  without  any.  He  was  so  genial,  that 
if  you  had  any  money  in  your  pocket  you  would 
have  held  on  tight  to  it,  and  taken  the  first  oppor 
tunity  to  get  out.  And  his  big  hearty  laugh  was 
altogether  too  ready  and  his  manners  too  free,  and 
when  he  clapped  me  on  the  back  I  felt  glad  to 
think  Old  Dibs  was  tight  in  his  attic,  and  his  tree 
in  good  running  order. 

"  Very  little  company  hereabouts  ?  "  he  asked, 
filling  up  our  glasses  for  the  second  round. 

"  Nothing  but  us  two,"  says  Tom. 

"  My  wife's  father  is  somewhere  down  this  way," 
volunteered  Mr.  Phelps. 

"  You  don't  say  1 "  says  I,  nudging  Tom  again 
under  the  cuddy  table. 

"  A  fine  old  gent,"  went  on  Mr.  Phelps,  "  but  he 
met  misfortunes  in  the  produce  commission  busi 
ness,  and  had  to  get  out  very  quiet." 

"  Too  bad !  "  said  I. 

"  It  grieves  my  wife  not  to  know  where  he  is," 
continued  Mr.  Phelps,  "  she  being  greatly  attached 
to  her  father,  and  him  disappearing  like  that;  and 
she  told  me  not  to  grudge  the  matter  of  fifty 
pounds  to  find  him." 

"  There's  a  lot  of  room  in  the  South  Seas  to 
lose  a  produce  commission  merchant  in,"  says  I. 

245 


JUSTICE 


"  Here's  a  likeness  of  him,"  says  Mr.  Phelps, 
taking  a  photograph  out  of  his  pocket,  while  four 
pairs  of  eyes  settled  on  Tom  and  me  like  gimlets, 
and  there  was  the  kind  of  pause  when  pins  drop. 

"  A  very  fine-appearing  old  gentleman,"  says  I, 
starting  in  spite  of  myself  when  I  saw  it  was  a 
picture  of  Old  Dibs. 

"  Give  us  a  squint,  Bill,"  says  Tom,  taking  it 
out  of  my  hands  as  bold  as  brass.  And  then :  "  I've 
seen  that  face  somewhere;  I  know  I  have.  Lord 
bless  me,  wherever  could  it  have  been  ?  "  And  he 
looked  at  it,  puzzled  and  recollectful,  me  holding 
my  breath,  and  the  rest  of  them  giving  a  little 
jump  in  their  seats. 

Tom  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table  with  a 
blow  that  made  the  glasses  ring. 

"  It  was  on  the  Belle  Brandon ! "  he  cried  out, 
very  excited.  "A  stout  old  party,  fair  complected, 
who  played  the  flute." 

"That's  him!"  cried  Phelps,  half-starting  from 
his  chair. 

"  I  reckon  he  must  be  up  Jaluit  way,"  said  Tom 
coolly,  "  Captain  Cole  being  bound  for  the  Mar- 
shalls  at  the  time." 

I  could  feel  them  shooting  glances  all  around  us. 

"  It's  remarkable  your  friend  here  doesn't  re 
member  him,"  says  the  one  they  called  Nettleship, 
indicating  me  with  the  heel  of  his  glass. 

"  I  didn't  happen  to  get  aboard  the  Brandon" 
246 


OLD   DIBS 

says  I.  "  What  was  I  doing,  Tom  ?  I  disremem- 
ber." 

"  That  was  when  you  was  laid  up  with  boils," 
says  Tom,  as  ready  as  lightning. 

"  So  it  was,"  says  I. 

"  You  didn't  happen  to  pass  any  talk  with  him?  " 
asks  Mr.  Phelps  of  Tom. 

"  Nothing  particular,"  says  Tom. 

"  Even  a  little  might  help  us,"  says  Mr.  Phelps. 
"  See  if  you  can't  remember." 

"  Oh !  he  said  he  was  looking  for  a  quiet  place 
to  end  his  days  in,"  answers  Tom. 

"  I  wonder  that  this  here  island  wasn't  to  his 
taste,"  says  Mr.  Nettleship,  with  a  quick  look. 

"  Oh,  it  was,"  says  Tom  unabashed,  "  only  Cap 
tain  Cole  broke  in  and  said  he  knew  a  better." 

By  this  time  nearly  all  our  heads  were  touching 
over  the  table,  except  the  one  they  called  the  book 
keeper,  who  had  run  for  a  chart. 

"  Did  he  call  the  island  by  any  particular  name  ?  " 
inquires  Mr.  Phelps. 

"  I  think  he  said  Pleasant  Island,"  says  Tom, 
"  because  I  mind  the  old  gentleman  saying  it  must 
be  a  pleasant  place  with  such  a  name  and  I  said  I 
had  been  there,  but  the  holding  ground  was  poor." 

The  bookkeeper  laid  the  chart  on  the  table,  and 
the  captain  found  Pleasant  Island  with  his  thumb. 

He  was  about  to  say  it  was  a  ten  days'  run 
leeward,  when  he  broke  off  sudden  with  "  ouch  " 
247 


WILD   JUSTICE 


instead,  being  kicked  hard  under  the  table,  and 
pretending  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  cough  instead. 

"  I'm  looking  for  a  change  of  weather  at  the 
full  of  the  moon,"  remarks  Tom,  "and  you'd  be 
wise  to  take  this  good  spell  while  it  lasts." 

I  guess  Tom  overdid  it  this  time,  and  I  gave 
him  hell  for  it  when  we  went  ashore,  for  I  saw  the 
change  on  Phelps's  face,  and  that  he  suddenly  sus- 
picioned  Tom  was  playing  double. 

"  Business  conies  first,"  he  says,  rolling  up  the 
chart,  "and  though  I  would  like  to  find  him,  just 
for  my  poor  wife's  satisfaction,  I  can't  go  wild- 
goose-chasing  all  over  the  Pacific  for  a  woman's 
whim." 

Tom  was  beginning  to  feel  that  he  had  overdone 
it,  too,  and  roused  more  suspicion  than  he  had  laid ; 
so  he  thought  to  make  it  up  by  losing  interest  in 
Old  Dibs,  and  what  was  Fitzsimmons  doing  now, 
and  was  it  true  that  John  L.  had  retired  from  the 
ring?  But  he  didn't  seem  to  recover  the  ground 
he  had  lost,  and  I  judged  it  a  bad  sign  when  we 
went  up  the  companion  for  Phelps  to  say,  kind  of 
absent-minded,  that  he'd  go  two  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  for  his  father-in-law,  alive  or  dead — raising 
it  to  five  hundred  as  we  dropped  over  the  side. 

We  pulled  first  to  Tom's  house,  so  as  to  divert 

suspicion,  and  from  there  I  went  along  by  myself 

to  tip  off  the  news  to  Old  Dibs.     When  I  had 

given  the  knocks  agreed  on,  three  sets  of  four,  he 

248 


OLD   DIBS 

drew  back  the  trap,  and  asked  very  cheerful  how 
I  had  made  out  with  the  books  and  papers. 

"  Good  God,  man,  they're  here ! "  says  I. 

"  Who's  here  ?  "  he  asks,  incredulous. 

"A  whole  schooner  of  detectives  from  Sydney," 
says  I.  "  They  say  they're  buying  guano  islands, 
but  there's  already  five  hundred  pounds  out  for 
you,  dead  or  alive." 

His  great  fat  hand  began  to  shake  on  the  trap. 

"  Never  you  mind,  Mr.  Smith,"  I  says  reassur 
ing.  "  Tom  will  be  due  here  at  midnight,  and  then 
we'll  run  you  up  your  tree." 

But  that  didn't  seem  to  soothe  him  any,  and  he 
quavered  out  he  would  be  better  where  he  was. 
But  I  said  they'd  rummage  the  whole  island  upside 
down  before  they  were  done,  and  all  he  had  to  do 
was  to  lay  low,  not  worry,  and  let  me  and  Tom 
handle  the  thing  for  him. 

He  reached  down  his  hand  through  the  trap, 
and  I  shook  it,  he  saying,  "  God  bless  you,  Bill — 
God  bless  you ! "  And  then  it  went  shut,  and  I 
heard  him  blow  out  the  lamp. 

The  next  step  was  to  take  my  old  girl  into  the 
secret,  she  being  a  Tongan,  as  I've  already  said, 
and  as  true  as  steel.  She  didn't  say  much,  but  I 
guess  it  would  have  done  Old  Dibs  good  to  have 
seen  her  eyes  flash,  and  the  way  her  teeth  grit, 
and  how  quick  she  was  to  understand  her  part — 
which  was,  to  pack  his  clothes  in  camphor-wood 
249 


WILD   JUSTICE 


chests  under  a  top  dressing  of  trade.  Old  Dibs 
made  no  bones  about  giving  her  the  keys,  while  I 
took  it  on  myself  to  tell  losefo  the  enemy  had 
arrived,  and  he'd  better  move  about  the  village 
warning  everybody  of  the  fack.  It  was  well  I  did 
so,  for  Phelps  and  Nettleship  and  the  rest  come 
ashore  soon  afterwards  with  their  pockets  full  of 
trifles  for  the  children  and  the  girls,  and  they 
strolled  about  the  settlement,  stopping  to  rest  and 
drink  cocoanuts  in  the  different  houses.  Phelps 
had  brought  the  photograph  along  and  showed  it 
right  and  left,  asking  if  they  had  ever  seen  any 
body  like  that.  I  guess  some  of  them  would  have 
cried  out  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  pastor  joining 
the  party,  like  he  wanted  to  do  the  honors  of  the 
island,  telling  the  natives  beforehand  about  the 
photograph,  and  shooing  off  the  children  when 
they  come  too  close  to  it.  The  whites  probably 
thought  he  was  talking  what  nice  folks  they  wereS, 
for  he  had  a  kind  of  bland  missionary  way  of  talk 
ing,  though  he  was  really  calling  them  the  sons  of 
Belial,  and  saying  how  the  person  who  gave  Old 
Dibs  away  would  have  his  house  burned  and  go 
to  hell. 

The  pastor  did  yeoman's  service  that  day,  and 
at  sundown  they  all  went  back  to  their  ship,  very 
grumpy  and  dissatisfied,  returning  no  wiser  than 
when  they'd  come.  losefo  held  a  service  after 
wards  to  rub  it  in,  and  the  king  spoke  at  it,  and 
250 


OLD   DIBS 

likewise  the  chiefs,  and  so  in  our  different  ways 
we  all  pulled  together  for  the  common  good.  They, 
had  quite  a  jollification  that  night  on  the  schooner, 
singing  songs  and  playing  some  kind  of  a  hurdy- 
gurdy  on  deck,  and  the  sound  of  it  come  over  the 
water  very  pleasant  to  hear.  I  sneaked  off  in  a 
canoe  toward  ten  o'clock,  to  make  sure  it  wasn't 
a  blind,  but  there  was  no  misdoubting  what  they 
were  up  to.  They  were  all  drunk,  and  getting 
drunker,  and  I  couldn't  but  think  what  a  poor, 
tipsifying  set  of  sleuths  they  were,  and  how  dif 
ferent  from  Sherlock  Holmes  in  the  book.  I  lay 
for  nearly  an  hour  under  their  quarter,  to  hear 
what  I  could  hear,  and  all  I  got  was  the  odds  and 
ends  of  some  smutty  stories,  and  once  being  very 
near  spit  on  the  head. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  station  there  was  Tom 
to  meet  me,  it  being  eleven  now,  and  the  village 
fast  asleep.  We  overhauled  the  gear  to  make  sure 
it  was  all  in  order,  Sarah  making  up  a  basket  of 
provisions  for  the  old  man,  together  with  his  tooth 
brush,  comb,  panjammers,  blanket,  a  demijohn  of 
water,  and  a  bottle  of  gin.  She  said  he  had  eaten 
no  dinner,  groaning  and  carrying  on  awful,  want 
ing  her  to  shoot  him  with  his  pistol  and  end  it  all. 
But  he  seemed  to  have  pulled  himself  together  by 
the  time  we  were  ready,  for  he  let  himself  down 
from  the  attic  quite  spry,  and  made  us  all  laugh 
by  the  remarks  he  passed.  But  one  could  see  he 
251 


WILD   JUSTICE 


just  forced  himself  to  do  it,  and  his  face  looked 
powerful  haggard  and  flabby  in  the  lantern  light, 
and  he  moved  queer  on  his  legs,  like  a  push  would 
have  sent  him  over. 

I  had  a  little  two-wheeled  truck  that  I  used  about 
the  store  to  run  bags  of  shell  about  in,  and  copra, 
and  on  this  we  put  the  treasure,  eight  bags  of  it, 
each  one  as  heavy  as  could  be  lifted  comfortably. 
Old  Dibs  insisted  on  cutting  one  open  and  serving 
us  out  a  double  handful  each,  not  forgetting  a  share 
for  Tom's  wife  as  well  as  mine,  and  saying,  "  Take 
it,  and  God  bless  you,  my  dear,  kind  friends !  " 
We  dropped  it  into  my  tool  chest,  and  threw  the 
key  on  the  floor  of  the  bedroom,  meaning  to  divide 
up  equal  later  on. 

We  rigged  a  sort  of  rope  harness  to  the  truck, 
giving  Tom  the  handles  to  steer  by,  while  Old 
Dibs,  Sarah,  and  me  did  tandem  in  front.  The 
boatswain's  chair  and  the  coil  of  Manila  rope  were 
lashed  down  on  the  load,  as  well  as  the  basket  of 
provisions,  Sarah  carrying  the  demijohn  in  her 
hand,  Old  Dibs  the  gin  and  "  Under  Two  Flags," 
while  I  led  the  way  with  the  lantern. 

My,  but  we  must  have  made  a  queer  sight  as 
we  plowed  through  the  darkness,  Tom  bearing 
down  on  the  handles  and  fighting  to  keep  the  truck 
on  an  even  keel,  Old  Dibs  grampussing  along  as 
wheeler,  and  Sarah  and  me  tugging  like  battery 
mules !  Of  course  everybody  knows  that  gold  is 
252 


OLD   DIBS 

heavy,  but  when  you  run  into  the  hundred  thou 
sands  it  becomes  pig-iron  heavy,  cannon  heavy, 
house-and-lot-and-barn  heavy!  It  nearly  pulled 
the  hearts  out  of  us  to  keep  that  truck  moving,  spe 
cially  in  the  sand  before  we  struck  a  harder  going. 

I  thought  time  and  again  it  was  going  to  prove 
the  death  of  Old  Dibs.  He  was  always  laying 
down  in  his  harness  like  a  done-up  Eskimo  dog  in 
the  pictures,  and  having  to  be  fanned  alive  again. 
But  when  we'd  propose  to  cut  him  out,  he'd  say 
No,  and  stagger  to  his  feet,  showing  a  splendid 
spirit  and  cart-horsing  ahead  till  his  poor  old  breath 
came  in  roars. 

It  was  a  thankful  moment  when  we  got  to  the 
tree,  where  me  and  Tom,  after  a  spell  of  rest, 
jumped  in  together  with  a  will.  It  was  no  slouch 
of  a  job  to  get  that  tackle  in  position,  the  block 
being  iron  shod  and  heavy,  the  rope  inch  Manila, 
and  the  night  as  black  as  the  pit  of  Tophet.  Tom 
went  aloft  first,  with  a  coil  of  light  line,  having  to 
feel  his  way  for  the  place  we  had  marked  with  the 
handkerchief,  and  threatening  more  than  once  to 
come  down  quicker  than  he  had  gone  up.  The 
handkerchief  had  rotted  off,  or  blown  away  long 
since,  and  it  bothered  Tom  not  a  little  to  find  where 
it  had  been.  But  at  last  he  did  so,  dropping  his 
line  for  the  lantern,  according  to  the  plan  we  had 
arranged  beforehand,  so  as  to  avoid  all  shouting 
and  noise.  When  he  had  placed  the  lantern  to  his 

253 


WILD   JUSTICE 


satisfaction,  the  line  came  straggling  down  again 
for  the  block  and  the  gear  to  make  it  fast  with, 
and  when  this  was  done  the  inch  Manila  went  up, 
and  everything  was  ready. 

It  showed  how  well  Torn  and  I  had  thought  it 
out,  that  there  wasn't  a  single  hitch,  except  for  the 
lantern  blowing  out  and  Tom  having  no  matches, 
I  going  up  to  see  what  was  delaying  him,  and  hav 
ing  none  neither.  Then  we  changed  places,  Tom 
being  a  heavier  man  to  pull,  and  I  remaining  aloft 
to  handle  the  freight  as  it  came  along.  They  made 
the  boatswain's  chair  fast  below,  and  sent  her  up 
with  the  first  load — two  bags  of  coin — getting  it  on 
a  level  with  the  platform  by  the  lantern  marking 
the  place.  I  stood  on  the  platform  and  had  no 
trouble  in  yanking  the  stuff  in ;  and  this  went  right 
along  like  a  mail  steamer,  till  it  was  all  up,  and  it 
came  old  Dibs's  turn. 

But  he  just  took  one  look  at  the  boatswain's 
chair,  and  said  "  Nit,"  laying  down  on  the  ground 
when  they  tried  to  persuade  him  into  it,  and  roll 
ing  over  and  over  in  desperation.  We  argufied 
over  him  for  an  hour,  and  it  seemed  all  to  no  pur 
pose,  he  refusing  to  budge  an  inch,  saying  he 
weighed  two  hundred  and  twenty  pounds,  and  was 
better  off  in  the  attic. 

Time  was  running  away  on  us,  and  me  and  Tom 
got  tired  of  saying  the  same  things  over  and  over, 
and  always  getting  the  same  answers,  and  finally 

254 


OLD   DIBS 

we  lost  our  tempers,  and  said  we'd  go  home.  Then 
he  said  he'd  come  home,  too,  and  we  said  No,  we 
had  washed  our  hands  of  him.  Then  he  said  he  was 
only  a  poor  old  man  and  would  blow  his  brains  out, 
and  we  said  he  might,  if  he  wanted  to.  Then,  when 
we  had  gone  about  twenty  paces,  he  come  lumber 
ing  after  us,  saying,  "  For  God's  sake,  stop ! "  and 
swearing  he  would  go  up  peaceful,  and  make  no 
more  trouble. 

We  tied  him  in  like  a  baby  in  a  high  chair,  I 
going  up  to  receive  him,  while  my  wife  and  Tom 
laid  on  to  the  rope  with  a  yeo-heave-yeo  under 
their  breaths.  All  the  fight  had  clean  gone  out  of 
him,  and  the  only  thing  he  did  was  to  squeal  a  little 
when  he  bumped  against  the  trunk,  and  tried  to 
fill  up  with  air  to  make  himself  lighter.  But  he 
reached  the  top  all  right,  and  I  landed  him  very 
careful,  he  squatting  down  on  the  floor  and  saying, 
"  Oh,  my  God !  "  I  was  too  busy  clearing  away, 
and  letting  the  block  down  to  Tom,  for  me  to  hear 
much  else  he  said,  but  when  I  was  through  and 
went  to  take  a  last  look  at  him,  he  seemed  quite 
snug  and  contented,  and  glad  he  had  come.  He 
shook  hands  very  grateful,  looking  for  me  to  come 
back  the  following  night  and  report,  I  to  make  an 
owl  signal  like  we  had  agreed  on  previously. 

I  wished  him  happy  dreams,  and  come  down,  all 
three  of  us  setting  out  for  home  with  the  truck  and 
the  gear,  my  wife  in  a  tantrum  at  our  having  threat- 

255 


WILD   JUSTICE 


ened  to  desert  Old  Dibs  when  he  acted  so  cowardly. 
Tom  made  it  worse  by  saying  the  Kanakas  were 
losing  all  respeck  for  whites,  and  if  he  was  married 
to  a  Tongan,  and  was  spoken  to  like  that,  he'd 
quit — by  gum,  that's  what  he'd  do !  Then  she  said 
it  would  serve  me  right  if  she  went  away  in  the 
schooner  with  the  white  men,  and  I  would  never 
see  her  again.  And  I  said,  "  Oh,  dear,  but  I'd  feel 
sorry  for  the  white  man  that  got  you !  "  Then  she 
said  she'd  give  all  the  gold  Old  Dibs  had  made  her 
a  present  of  to  be  back  home  in  Tonga ;  and  then  I 
said  I'd  gladly  add  mine  to  hers.  And  when  Tom 
added  his,  I  thought  we  were  in  for  a  race  war. 

We  all  got  back  pretty  cross  and  tired,  but  a 
little  beer  put  heart  in  us;  and  I  pulled  her  down 
on  my  knee  and  said  she  was  the  only  girl  in  the 
world,  and  that  I  wouldn't  trade  her  for  a  ten-ton 
cutter ;  while  Tom  counted  out  the  money  Old  Dibs 
had  given  us  previous,  and  said  we  were  all  a 
pack  of  fools,  and  that  he  was  as  fond  of  Sarah  as 
anybody.  So  peace  descended  like  a  beautiful  vi 
sion,  and  there  was  four  hundred  and  forty  dollars 
for  each  of  us,  with  a  twenty  over  that  we  tossed 
for,  and  engineered  to  let  Sarah  win.  Tom  said 
we  might  shake  hands  on  a  good  night's  work, 
and  went  home  in  high  spirits,  jingling  his  money 
in  a  bandanner. 

It  wasn't  long  after  breakfast  the  next  morning 
when  I  heard  a  great  stamping  and  tramping  out 
256 


OLD   DIBS 

in  front,  and  there,  if  you  please,  was  the  whole 
schooner  party,  Phelps,  Nettleship,  the  bookkeeper, 
and  the  captain.  They  had  thrown  off  the  mask 
now,  and  Phelps  had  a  warrant  a  yard  long  for 
the  apprehension  of  Runyon  Rufe,  which  he  read 
aloud  to  me,  while  the  others  listened  with  their 
hats  off  like  it  was  church. 

"  I  thought  you  gentlemen  were  in  the  guano 
business,"  says  I,  when  he  had  finished. 

"  We're  in  the  Runyon  Rufe  catching  business," 
says  Mr.  Phelps,  very  genial,  "  and  we  trust  you 
will  not  oppose  the  officers  of  the  law  in  the  exer 
cise  of  their  functions." 

"  I  don't  want  to  oppose  anybody  when  it's  four 
to  one,"  says  I,  equally  genial,  "though  may  I 
make  so  bold  as  to  inquire  who  is  Runyon  Rufe 
and  what's  he  done?" 

"  Never  heard  of  Runyon  Rufe !  "  says  Nettle- 
ship,  like  it  was  George  Washington  or  Alfred  the 
Great. 

"  Here  it  is,  better  than  I  can  tell  it,"  said  Mr. 
Phelps,  handing  me  a  printed  proclamation: 

TEN  THOUSAND  POUNDS  REWARD. 

RUNYON  RUFE,  Banker  and  Company  Promoter,  wanted 
for  gigantic  frauds  in  connection  with  the  Invincible  Build 
ing  Society,  the  Greater  London  Finance  Syndicate,  Sub 
urbs  Limited,  and  other  undertakings.  Fled  to  the  United 
States,  where  he  had  previously  put  by  sums  aggregating 
two  hundred  thousand  pounds;  resisted  extradition;  for 
feited  his  bail;  was  traced  to  Portland,  Oregon,  and  thence 


WILD   JUSTICE 


to  Penrhyn  Island,  South  Pacific,  where  all  clews  as  to  his 
whereabouts  were  lost. 

Aged  sixty- three;  height,  five  feet  nine  inches;  imposing 
appearance;  weight,  fifteen  stone  and  over;  fair  com 
plexion;  brown  eyes,  with  bushy,  gray  eyebrows;  scanty 
gray  hair;  of  a  plethoric  habit,  and  with  a  noticeable  hesi 
tancy  of  speech.  When  last  seen  was  well  supplied  with 
money,  and  was  heard  declaring  his  intention  of  making 
his  way  toward  the  lesser-traveled  islands  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean. 

The  above  reward,  in  whole  or  in  part,  will  be  paid  by 
Houghton  &  Cust,  No.  318  George  Street,  Sydney,  New 
South  Wales,  on  receiving  information  that  will  lead  to 
the  arrest  of  the  said  Runyon  Rufe. 

Traders  and  others  are  cautioned  against  harboring  the 
fugitive,  or  aiding  and  abetting  his  escape  from  the  officers 
of  justice. 

I  read  it  three  times  and  then  handed  it  back. 

"  Show  me  where  to  sign,"  says  I. 

"We  have  to  go  through  the  disagreeable  for 
mality  of  searching  these  premises,"  said  Mr. 
Phelps,  disregarding  my  joke,  "  and  if  you  have 
no  objections  we  shall  begin  now ! " 

"  And  suppose  I  did  have  an  objection?  "  I  asked. 

"  We'd  search  them  just  the  same,"  said  Mr. 
Phelps,  grinning. 

I  was  in  two  minds  what  to  do;  but  I  noticed 
the  bookkeeper's  lip  was  cut,  and  there  was  dried 
blood  on  Mr.  Nettleship's  knuckles,  and  it  didn't 
seem  good  enough.  I  saw  they  had  begun  on  Tom 
first,  and  that  decided  me  to  take  water  with  my 
formality. 

258 


OLD   DIBS 

"  Walk  in,"  says  I. 

They  didn't  wait  for  a  second  asking,  and  a  min 
ute  later  were  poking  and  rummaging  all  through 
the  place.  They  thought  I  might  have  hid  him 
somewheres,  and  turned  over  everything  to  that 
end,  not  opening  as  much  as  a  chest  or  pulling  out 
a  single  drawer.  It  wasn't  much  pleasure  to  look 
on  and  see  them  doing  it,  but  I  had  to  take  my 
medicine,  and  it  was  common  sense  to  appear  cheer 
ful  about  it.  They  crawled  into  all  kinds  of  places, 
and  backed  out  of  all  kinds  of  others,  and  tapped 
the  walls  to  see  if  any  was  hollow,  and  turned  over 
sacks  of  pearl  shell  and  copra,  and  sneezed  and 
swore  and  burrowed  and  choked,  till  at  last  Mr. 
Phelps  really  found  something,  and  that  was  a  cen 
tipede  that  bit  him.  This  brought  them  all  out  on 
the  front  veranda  again,  where  I  had  to  pretend 
I  was  sorry,  which  I  was — for  the  centipede. 

I  asked  what  they  were  going  to  do  next,  and 
they  said,  "  Get  aboard  and  bathe  it  with  ammo- 
niar " ;  and  I  said,  "  No,  I  meant  about  Runyon 
Rufe  " ;  and  Mr.  Phelps  he  give  me  a  wicked  look, 
and  said  that  they'd  lay  him  by  the  legs  before 
long,  together  with  a  few  white  trading  gentle 
men,  maybe,  to  keep  him  company;  and  I  said, 
"  Oh,  dear,  I  hope  that  isn't  any  insinuation  against 
present  company !  "  and  he  said,  "  the  present  com 
pany  might  put  the  cap  on  if  it  fitted  them  " ;  and 
I  said  "  if  he  couldn't  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  his 
259 


WILD   JUSTICE 


head  he  had  better  get  off  my  front  stoop  " ;  and 
he  said  "  he  wouldn't  demean  himself  by  bandying 
words  with  a  beach-comber,"  and  went  off  sucking 
his  hand,  with  the  others  crowding  around  him, 
and  asking  him  how  it  felt  now. 

I  suspicioned  there  had  been  a  leak  somewheres, 
and  was  surer  than  ever  when  Tom  came  around 
with  his  eye  bunged  up  where  Nettleship  had  hit 
him.  And  it  certainly  looked  black  that  they  made 
no  appearance  of  moving,  raising  an  awning  over 
the  quarter-deck,  and  bringing  up  tables  and  swing 
ing  hammocks  like  it  was  for  a  week.  The  pastor 
had  told  Tom  that  one  of  the  children  had  reckon- 
ized  Old  Dibs's  photograph,  and  clapped  his  hands 
before  he  could  be  stopped,  crying  out,  "  Ona ! 
Ona !  "  the  name  Old  Dibs  went  by  among  the 
Kanakas. 

We  put  in  a  pretty  anxious  day,  for  they  began 
a  systematic  prowl  all  over  the  island,  obviously 
dividing  out  the  territory  and  doing  it  simultane 
ous.  That  night  they  set  a  watch  on  my  house  and 
Tom's,  the  news  coming  in  from  losefo,  who  had 
spies  out  watching  them.  It  was  regular  wheels 
within  wheels,  and  I  couldn't  but  wonder  how  poor 
Old  Dibs  was  faring  up  his  tree,  waiting  and  wait 
ing  for  us  to  come! 

The  next  day  they  prowled  harder  than  ever, 
this  time  the  crew  joining  in,  mate,  cook,  cabin 
boy,  and  four  hands.  Like  was  natural,  they  made 
260 


OLD   DIBS 

me  and  Tom's  first — the  crew,  I  mean — and  we 
both  had  the  same  happy  thought,  square-face. 
The  mate  went  off  with  only  three  drinks  in  him, 
taking  the  cabin  boy  with  two,  but  the  rest  of  them 
sucked  it  in  by  the  bucket,  and  the  fartherest  any 
of  them  got  away  was  a  hundred  yards,  and  him 
with  a  bottle  in  his  hand.  They  were  a  pretty  ugly 
crowd  by  nightfall,  refusing  to  go  back  to  the  ship 
when  ordered,  and  roaring  and  yelling  about  the 
settlement  to  all  hours.  The  afterguard  still  kept 
tab  on  me  and  Tom,  however,  and  so  yet  another 
night  passed  without  our  daring  to  make  our  date 
with  Old  Dibs.  But  in  the  morning  they  lost  all 
patience,  rounding  up  the  crew  with  handspikes, 
and  all  going  off  to  the  schooner  with  half  of  them 
in  irons.  Phelps  and  Nettleship  helped  to  get  up 
anchor  themselves,  and  toward  nine  o'clock  we  had 
the  blessed  sight  of  their  heels,  beating  out  of  the 
lagoon  against  a  stiff  trade. 

It  was  hard  to  have  to  wait  the  balance  of  the 
day  doing  nothing,  for  we  might  need  the  tree  idea 
again,  and  it  would  have  been  a  mug's  game  to 
have  given  away  the  secret  to  the  Kanakas.  Tom 
and  me  both  felt  considerable  rocky,  besides,  from 
having  drunk  so  much  gin  with  the  schooner's  peo 
ple;  for  though  we  had  held  back  all  we  could, 
and  had  tipped  our  glasses  on  the  sly,  we  couldn't 
seem  too  behindhand  in  whooping  it  up  with  them. 
But  we  were  dead  dogs  now  all  right,  and  the  main 
261 


WILD   JUSTICE 


part  of  breakfast  and  dinner  was  the  buckets  of 
water  we  poured  over  each  other's  heads.  It  was 
what  you  might  call  a  very  long  day,  and  it  seemed 
like  the  sun  would  never  set,  for  we  were  both  of 
us  in  a  sweat  about  Old  Dibs,  and  more  than 
anxious  how  he  had  made  out. 

Then  sundown  came,  and  dusk,  and  night  itself, 
and  still  another  long  spell  for  the  Kanakas  to  go 
to  sleep,  which  it  seemed  as  though  they  never 
would.  Yes,  a  long  day,  and  a  long,  long  evening, 
and  it  was  like  a  whole  week  had  passed  before 
we  stood  under  the  tree  and  owly-owled  to  Old 
Dibs. 

It  was  a  mighty  faint  answer  he  gave  back,  and 
when  me  and  Tom  had  rigged  up  the  chair  again 
we  found  we  had  a  sick  man  on  our  hands.  The 
exposure  had  nearly  done  for  him;  that,  and  the 
fear  of  being  caught,  and  all  the  water  having 
leaked  out  of  the  demijohn,  which  he  had  stood 
on  its  side  the  better  to  hide  it.  He  was  that  weak 
he  could  hardly  sit  up,  and  was  partly  off  his  nut, 
besides,  wanting  to  telephone  at  once  to  Longhurst, 
and  mixing  up  Tom  with  the  Public  Prosecutor. 

He  would  put  his  poor  old  trembling  hand  across 
his  forehead  like  he  was  trying  to  wipe  all  this 
away,  saying,  "Is  that  you,  Tom  Riley?"  and, 
"Bill,  Bill,"  like  that.  It  was  no  easy  matter  to 
get  him  down,  for  he  almost  needed  to  be  lifted 
into  the  boatswain's  chair,  and  couldn't  as  much  as 
262 


OLD   DIES 

raise  a  little  finger  to  help  himself  or  hold  on,  and 
once  we  nearly  spilled  him  out  altogether.  For 
tunately,  my  old  girl  had  brought  some  hot  coffee 
in  a  beer  bottle,  and  this  was  just  like  pouring  new 
life  down  his  throat.  Our  first  business  was  to 
get  him  home  and  tuck  him  in,  returning  and  mak 
ing  a  second  trip  of  the  treasure,  and  winding  up 
all  serene  about  two  in  the  morning,  with  Old  Dibs 
sitting  up  in  bed  and  eating  fried  eggs. 

When  losefo  reported  next  morning,  Old  Dibs 
paid  him  a  hundred  dollars  and  dispensed  with  his 
services,  saying  that  though  he'd  always  be  glad 
to  see  him  around  as  a  friend,  he  had  no  more 
call  to  keep  him  sitting  on  the  chest.  This  made 
Tom  and  me  feel  good,  for  it  showed  he  trusted 
us  now,  which  he  had  never  quite  done  before. 
In  a  day  or  two  he  was  almost  as  lively  as  ever, 
out  in  the  graveyard  playing  on  his  flute,  and  at 
tending  to  church  work  on  committee  nights  the 
same  as  before. 

But  there  was  a  big  change  in  him  for  all  that, 
and  me  and  Tom  got  it  into  our  heads  that  he 
wasn't  going  to  live  very  long,  for  he  had  that 
distressed  look  on  his  face  that  showed  something 
wrong  inside.  He  used  to  run  on  talking  to  him 
self  half  the  night,  and  once  he  burst  in  to  where 
I  was  asleep,  saying  he  had  seen  me  at  the  treasure 
chest,  prizing  off  the  lid,  and  what  did  I  mean  by 
it?  After  having  lived  together  so  long  and  com- 
263 


WILD   JUSTICE 


fortable,  it  wasn't  very  pleasant  to  see  him  going 
crazy  on  us — and  going  crazy  that  way — being  sus 
picious  we  meant  to  rob  and  kill  him,  and  all  of 
us  being  in  a  conspiracy.  He  told  the  pastor  he 
was  afraid  of  his  life  of  Tom  and  me,  and  if  it 
wasn't  for  losefo  he  would  be  fearful  to  stay  in  my 
house  a  minute;  and  he  told  Tom  he  was  the  only 
friend  he  had ;  and  then  said  the  same  to  me,  warn 
ing  me  against  Tom  and  losefo,  saying  they  were 
at  the  winder  every  night  trying  to  break  in.  And 
all  this,  maybe,  on  the  very  selfsame  day,  the  three 
of  us  comparing  notes  and  wondering  where  it 
was  all  going  to  end. 

It  ended  sooner  than  any  of  us  expected ;  for  one 
morning,  when  Sarah  went  to  take  him  his  coffee, 
his  door  was  locked,  and  for  all  our  hammering  we 
couldn't  raise  a  sound.  I  broke  it  in  at  last,  ex 
pecting  that  he'd  rise  up  and  shoot  me,  and  dodging 
when  it  went  inward  with  a  crash.  But  there  was 
nobody  to  shoot,  the  room  being  stark  empty,  and 
the  only  thing  of  Old  Dibs  his  clothes  on  a  chair. 
We  were  at  a  loss  what  to  do,  and  waited  for  half 
an  hour,  thinking  he  might  turn  up.  Then,  real 
uneasy  in  our  minds,  we  went  out  to  look  for  him. 
He  wasn't  anywhere  near  the  house  or  the  beach, 
and  as  a  last  resort  we  went  across  the  island  to 
the  graveyard,  thinking  perhaps  he  had  taken  it 
into  his  head  to  have  a  before-breakfast  tootle  on 
the  flute.  We  found  him,  sure  enough,  in  the 
264 


OLD   DIBS 

middle  of  the  graveyard,  but  laying  forward  in  his 
old  crimson  dressing  gown,  dead. 

Yes,  sir,  cold  to  the  touch  like  it  had  been  for 
hours,  and  holding  a  blackened  lantern  in  his  poor 
old  fist — dead  as  dead — face  down  in  the  coral  sand. 
We  rolled  him  over  to  do  what  we  could  for  him, 
but  he  had  passed  to  a  place  beyond  help  or  hurt. 
I  went  back  for  Tom  in  a  protuberation,  saying, 
"  My  God !  Tom,  what  do  you  think's  happened — 
Old  Dibs's  dead  in  the  graveyard !  "  I  guess  the 
old  man  had  never  been  so  close  to  Tom  as  he  had 
been  to  me,  boarding  in  my  house  and  almost  a 
father  to  me  and  the  wife,  for  Tom  took  it  awful 
cool,  and  asked  almost  the  first  thing  about  the 
money. 

"  You  and  me  will  divide  on  that,"  he  says. 

"  Sure,"  I  says,  "  but  that  can  stand  over  till 
afterwards,  Tom." 

"  Stand  over,  nothing ! "  he  says,  very  sharp ; 
and  with  that  we  both  set  off  running  for  my 
house. 

It  was  a  jumpy  thing  to  enter  that  darkened 
room,  with  the  feeling  you  couldn't  shake  off  that 
Old  Dibs  was  peering  in  at  us,  and  that  every 
minute  we'd  hear  his  footstep,  everything  laid  out 
just  as  he  had  last  touched  them,  and  almost  warm, 
even  to  his  slippers  and  his  collar  and  the  old  hat 
against  the  wall.  But  it  made  no  more  difference 
to  Tom  than  if  it  had  been  his  own  hat,  and  he 
265 


WILD   JUSTICE 


tramped  in  like  a  policeman,  saying,  "  Where  is  it, 
Bill?" 

"  In  one  of  them  two  camphor-wood  chests," 
says  I. 

He  lifted  up  one  of  them  by  the  end  and  let  it 
fall  ker-bang! 

"  Not  here,"  says  he. 

"  Try  the  other,"  says  I,  with  a  sudden  sinking. 

He  let  that  crash,  too,  and  turning  around, 
looked  me  in  the  face. 

"  Good  God,  Tom !  "  said  I. 

"  Just  what  I  suspected  all  along,"  said  Tom, 
as  savage  as  a  tiger.  "  He's  made  way  with  it !  " 

We  didn't  stop  to  speak  another  word,  but  rum 
maged  the  whole  room  upside  down. 

"  He's  buried  it,"  says  Tom,  savager  than  ever, 
"  and  what  kind  of  a  bastard  was  you  to  let  him  ?  " 

"  It  was  none  of  my  business,"  says  I. 

"  None  of  your  business !  "  he  repeated,  scream 
ing  out  at  me  like  a  woman — "  to  have  a  quarter 
of  a  million  by  the  tail  and  let  it  go?  You  might 
have  been  slack  about  your  own  half,  but  it  was 
a  swine's  trick  not  to  keep  track  of  mine ! " 

"  He  can't  have  taken  it  very  far,"  I  said. 

"  Not  far !  "  yelled  Tom,  making  an  insult  of 
every  word  I  said.  "  Why,  what  was  to  prevent 
him  lugging  away  a  little  this  day  and  that,  till 
the  whole  caboodle  was  sunk  in  a  solid  block? 
What  do  you  suppose  he  was  doing  with  the  lan- 
266 


OLD   DIBS 

tern,  you  torn-fool?  Planting  it,  of  course — plant 
ing  every  dollar  of  it,  night  after  night,  while  you 
were  snoozing  in  your  silly  bed." 

"If  it's  anywhere  it's  in  the  Kanaka  graveyard," 
says  I.  "  I'll  go  bail  it's  within  ten  feet  of  where 
we  found  his  dead  body." 

"  Did  you  stake  the  place  ?  "  says  Tom. 

I  was  ashamed  to  tell  him  I  hadn't  even  thought 
of  the  money,  being  struck  all  of  a  heap,  and  al 
ways  powerful  fond  of  Old  Dibs. 

"  It  would  serve  you  right  if  I  made  you  dig  up 
the  whole  graveyard,  single-handed,"  said  Tom; 
"  and  if  you  had  a  spark  of  proper  feeling,  Bill 
Hargus,  you'd  fall  on  your  knees  and  beg  my 
parding  for  having  acted  like  such  a  damned 


ninny 


I  would  have  answered  him  back  in  his  own 
coin  if  I  hadn't  felt  so  bad  about  it  all,  and  rattled, 
besides.  I  had  punched  Tom's  head  often  and 
often,  and  he  had  punched  mine;  but  I  was  stag 
gered  by  the  money  being  missing,  and  the  loss 
of  it  just  seemed  to  swallow  up  everything  else. 
Somehow,  it  had  never  seemed  my  money  till  then, 
and  the  more  I  felt  it  mine  the  more  galling  it  was 
to  give  it  up.  Tom  relented  when  he  saw  how  cut 
up  I  was,  withdrawing  all  the  hard  things  he  had 
said,  and  going  on  the  other  tack  to  cheer  me  up. 
He  said  he  was  just  as  big  an  ass  as  I  was,  and 
came  out  handsome  about  its  being  both  our  fault, 
267 


WILD   JUSTICE 


and  how  it  didn't  matter  a  hill  of  beans  anyway, 
for  we'd  soon  get  our  spades  on  to  it.  It  stood  to 
reason  it  couldn't  be  far  away  or  buried  very  deep, 
and  a  little  fossicking  with  an  iron  ramrod  would 
feel  it  out  in  no  time. 

Well,  we  gave  Old  Dibs  a  good  send  off,  Tom 
and  me  making  the  coffin,  and  we  buried  him  in 
a  likely  place  to  windward  of  the  Kanaka  grave 
yard.  Tom  wouldn't  have  him  inside,  for  fear  the 
natives  might  chance  on  the  treasure  themselves, 
and  we  put  a  neat  fence  around  the  place,  with  a 
priming  and  two  coats  of  white  paint,  and  a  natty 
gate  to  go  in  by  with  brass  hinges.  The  whole 
settlement  turned  out,  losefo  outdoing  himself,  and 
the  king  butting  in  with  an  address,  and  everything 
shipshape  and  Bristol  fashion,  as  sailors  say.  We 
didn't  have  no  flowers,  and  the  whole  business  was 
sort  of  home-made  and  amateur,  but  Sarah  made 
up  for  the  lack  of  them  by  pegging  out  the  grave 
with  little  poles,  and  streamers  which  gave  quite 
a  gay  look  to  it,  and  fluttered  in  the  wind,  very 
pretty  to  see. 

Then  Tom  and  me  started  in  our  digging  opera 
tions  on  a  checkerboard  plan,  very  systematic,  with 
stakes  where  we  left  off,  working  by  night  so  as 
not  to  rouse  the  natives'  ill  will.  Or,  I  ought  to 
have  said,  two  nights,  for  I  guess  we  didn't  cover 
up  our  tracks  sufficient,  and  they  got  on  to  it.  We 
discovered  this  in  the  form  of  a  depitation  of  chiefs 
268 


OLD    DIBS 

and  elders,  who  give  us  warning  it  had  to  stop 
ker-plunk!  They  said  they  wouldn't  allow  their 
graveyard  torn  up,  and  altogether  acted  very  ugly 
and  insulting.  Tom  and  I  had  to  sing  small  and 
put  in  a  holiday  neither  of  us  wanted,  for  the 
Kanakas  had  the  whip  hand  of  us,  and  I  never  saw 
them  so  roused.  Tom  at  first  tried  to  carry  it  off 
with  a  high  hand,  informing  them  that  he  was  a 
British  subjeck,  by  God !  and  was  they  meaning 
to  interfere  with  a  British  subjeck?  But  I  couldn't 
see  how  that  gave  him  any  right  to  dig  up  Kanaka 
graveyards  for  money  that  didn't  belong  to  him, 
and  so  I  smoothed  them  down  and  out-talked  Tom, 
saying  it  shouldn't  happen  again,  and  I  was  glad 
they  had  mentioned  it! 

We  waited  a  few  weeks  for  the  storm  to  blow 
over,  and  then  begun  again,  this  time  more  cau 
tious  than  before  by  a  darned  sight.  We  thought 
we  were  managing  beautifully,  till  the  next  day, 
when  we  went  out  fishing  in  Tom's  boat  and  come 
back  to  find  both  our  stations  burned  to  the  ground, 
and  all  our  stuff  stacked  outside  the  smoking  ruins, 
higgledy-piggledy ! 

This  was  getting  it  in  the  neck,  and  we  saw  we 
were  beat.  We  ran  up  a  couple  of  little  shacks 
and  settled  down  to  ordinary  trading  again,  with 
what  good  spirits  you  can  imagine.  We  didn't 
even  dare  walk  on  the  weather  side  of  the  island, 
lest  they'd  carry  out  their  next  threat,  which  was  to 
269 


WILD   JUSTICE 


shoot  us ;  and  the  only  revenge  we  had  was  raising 
prices  on  them  and  monkeying  with  the  scales,  win 
ning  out  in  both  ways.  But  it  was  a  poor  set  off 
to  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  cold  coin  where  almost 
we  could  lay  our  hands  on  it,  and  if  there  was  in  the 
whole  world  a  human  being  more  blue  and  miser 
able  than  me,  it  was  Tom  Riley.  Then,  to  make 
matters  worse,  the  whole  thing  was  common  prop 
erty  now,  the  Kanakas  knowing  as  much  as  we 
did,  and  more,  and  the  news  was  passed  along  to 
every  ship  that  came — all  about  Old  Dibs  and  the 
money  in  the  graveyard.  You  might  be  surprised 
the  natives  didn't  take  a  leaf  out  of  our  book  and 
dig  it  up  for  themselves;  but  you'll  never  really 
civilize  a  Kanaka  if  you  try  a  thousand  years,  and 
they  wouldn't  have  turned  up  their  dead  grand 
mothers  and  fathers  and  aunts  for  all  the  gold  in 
the  Bank  of  England — being  sunk  in  superstition 
and  slavishly  afraid  of  spirits  and  the  like. 

We  had  to  sit  with  folded  hands  and  pretend  to 
be  pleased,  while  every  ship  that  called  had  to  take 
its  whack  at  the  graveyard.  First  it  was  the  Lore 
lei,  getting  off  scot  free  with  only  a  taboo;  then  it 
was  the  Tasmanian,  with  a  bullet  through  the  cap 
tain's  leg;  then  the  cutter  Sprite,  with  concussion 
of  the  brain.  I  never  saw  the  Kanakas  drove  so 
wild,  till  at  last,  when  there  was  a  ship  off  the 
settlement,  they'd  set  an  anchor  watch  on  the  grave 
yard  and  do  sentry  go  with  loaded  guns. 
270 


Then  one  fine  day  a  French  schooner  from  Tahiti 
ran  in,  unloaded  sixteen  men  armed  with  rifles  and 
carrying  pickaxes  and  spades,  who  marched  across 
the  island  singing  the  "  Marseillaise,"  and  proceeded 
to  take  up  the  whole  place.  The  natives  rallied 
with  everything  they  could  lay  their  hands  on,  from 
Winchesters  to  fish  spears,  and  my,  if  they  didn't 
chase  out  them  Frenchmen  at  the  double!  They 
got  away,  leaving  one  dead  and  carrying  three, 
making  a  bee  line  for  the  beach,  the  schooner  cover 
ing  their  retreat  with  a  blazing  Nordenfeldt.  They 
were  in  such  a  hurry  to  be  gone  that  they  cut  away 
their  moorings  with  an  ax,  and  I  had  the  privilege, 
later  on,  of  buying  their  anchor,  second  hand,  for 
ten  dollars  in  trade. 

The  natives  got  wilder  than  ever  after  this,  and 
were  almost  afraid  to  die,  lest  they'd  be  dug  up 
again  and  their  bones  cast  to  the  winds.  From 
being  the  most  orderly  island  in  the  Pacific,  Mani- 
hiki  slumped  to  be  the  worst;  and  it  got  such  a 
name  that  ships  were  scared  of  coming  near  it; 
and  once,  when  Tom  and  me  went  out  in  a  whale- 
boat  toward  a  becalmed  German  bark,  hoping  to 
raise  a  newspaper  or  a  sack  of  potatoes,  they  opened 
fire  on  us  and  lowered  two  boats  to  tow  away  the 
ship.  Tom  and  me  got  mixed  up  in  the  general 
opinion  of  the  place,  which  was  stinking  bad  and 
what  they  called  a  pirates'  nest,  and  an  English 
man-of-war  came  down  special  to  deport  Tom.  I 
271 


WILD   JUSTICE 


never  was  so  glad  in  ray  life  to  be  an  American, 
for,  though  the  captain  gave  Tom  what  he  called 
the  benefit  of  the  doubt,  they  fined  him  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars  and  slanged  him  like  a  nigger. 

The  last  straw  was  the  visit  of  a  French  man- 
of-war,  that  opened  broadsides  on  us  without  warn 
ing,  and  then  landed  and  burned  the  settlement, 
including  everything  me  and  Tom  owned  in  the 
world,  except  the  clothes  we  stood  in  and  the  cash 
we  snatched  on  the  run.  This  was  on  account  of 
the  "  outrage  "  on  the  Tahiti  schooner. 

Tom  said  the  island  was  becoming  a  regular 
human  pigeon-shoot,  and  wondered  where  the  light 
ning  would  strike  next;  and  we  both  grew  clean 
sick  of  it  and  in  a  fever  to  get  away.  There  was 
not  even  the  temptation  of  Old  Dibs's  treasure  to 
keep  us  now,  for  the  natives  all  got  together  and 
heaped  up  the  graveyard  solid  with  rock  to  the 
level  of  the  outside  walls,  and  floored  the  top  with 
cement  six  inches  deep,  putting  in  a  matter  of  a 
thousand  tons.  It  was  as  solid  as  a  fortification, 
and  pounded  down,  besides,  with  pounders,  like  a 
city  street;  and  if  ever  there  was  money  in  a  safe 
place  and  likely  to  stay  there  undisturbed,  I  guess 
it  was  Old  Dibs's. 

It  was  a  happy  day  for  Tom  and  me  when  the 
Flink  dropped  anchor  off  the  settlement,  and  we 
patched  it  up  with  the  captain  to  give  us  a  passage 
to  the  Kingsmills,  to  begin  the  world  again.  It 


OLD   DIBS 

had  always  lain  sort  of  heavy  on  my  wife  that  we 
hadn't  put  up  a  name  over  old  Dibs's  grave,  and 
now  that  we  were  going  away  with  that  undone 
she  reproached  me  awful.  You  see,  I  had  promised 
her  something  nice  in  the  marble  line  from  Sydney, 
and  kept  putting  her  off  and  off  in  the  hope  she'd 
forget  it.  She  had  been  remarkably  fond  of  the 
old  fellow,  as,  indeed,  so  was  I,  and  she  said  it 
was  a  shame  to  go  away  forever  with  this  unat 
tended  to.  I  didn't  have  no  time  for  anything 
fancy,  nor  the  ability  neither,  but  as  the  ship  lay 
over  for  a  couple  of  days  I  made  shift  to  please 
her  with  a  wooden  slab.  We  went  over  and  set 
it  up  about  an  hour  before  we  sailed,  and  for  all 
I  know  it  may  be  there  yet.  Some  folks  might 
kick  at  the  inscription,  but  he  had  always  been 
mighty  good  and  kind  and  free-handed  to  us,  and 
you  must  take  a  man  as  you  find  him.  This  was 
how  it  run: 

SACRED 

TO 

THE    MEMORY 
OF 

RUNYON   RUFE 

BANKER    AND    PHILANTHROPIST 
ERECTED 

BY 
HIS    SORROWING    FRIENDS 


273 


THE    LABOR    CAPTAIN 

IT  was  a  wild  March  day,  and  the  rising  wind 
sang  in  the  rigging  of  the  ships.  The  weather 
horizon,  dark  and  brilliant,  in  ominous  alternations 
showed  a  sky  of  piled-up  cloud  interspersed  with 
inky  patches  where  squalls  were  bursting.  To  lee 
ward,  the  broad  lagoon,  stretching  for  a  dozen 
miles  to  the  tree-topped  rim  of  reef,  smoked  with 
the  haze  of  an  impending  gale.  Ashore,  the  palms 
bent  like  grass  in  the  succeeding  gusts,  and  the 
ocean  beaches  reverberated  with  a  furious  surf. 
The  great  atoll  of  Makin,  no  higher  than  a  man, 
no  wider  than  a  couple  of  furlongs,  but  in  cir 
cumference  a  sinuous  giant  of  ninety  miles  or  more, 
lay  like  a  snake  on  the  boisterous  waters  of  the 
equator  and  defied  the  sea  and  storm. 

Within  the  lagoon,  and  not  far  off  the  settlement, 
two  ships  rocked  at  anchor.  One,  the  Northern 
Light,  was  a  powerful  topsail  schooner  of  a  hun 
dred  tons;  straight  bowed,  low  in  the  water,  built 
on  fine  lines  and  yet  sparred  for  safety,  the  sort 
of  vessel  that  does  well  under  plain  sail,  and  when 
pressed  can  fly.  The  other,  the  Edelweiss,  was  a 
miniature  fore  and  after  of  about  twenty  tons,  a 
toy  of  delicacy  and  grace,  betraying  at  a  glance 

274 


THE   LABOR    CAPTAIN 


that  she  had  been  designed  a  yacht,  and,  in  spite 
of  fallen  fortunes,  was  still  sailed  as  one.  The 
man  that  laid  her  lee  rail  under  would  get  danger 
as  well  as  speed  for  his  pains,  and  in  time  would 
be  likely  to  satisfy  a  taste  for  both  by  making  a 
swift  trip  to  the  bottom. 

The  deck  of  the  Northern  Light  was  empty  save 
for  the  single  tall  figure  of  Gregory  Cole,  captain 
and  owner,  who  was  leaning  over  the  rail  gazing 
at  the  Edehveiss.  He  was  a  man  of  about  thirty, 
his  tanned,  handsome  face  overcast  and  somber,  his 
eyes,  with  their  characteristic  hunted  look,  fixed  in 
an  uneasy  stare  on  his  smaller  neighbor. 

He  had  never  known  how  passionately  he  had 
loved  Madge  Blanchard  until  he  had  lost  her;  until 
after  that  wild  quarrel  on  Nonootch,  when  her 
father  had  called  him  a  slaver  to  his  face,  and 
they  had  parted  on  either  side  in  anger;  until  he 
had  beaten  up  from  westward  to  find  her  the  month- 
old  wife  of  Joe  Horble.  Somehow,  in  the  course 
of  those  long,  miserable  months,  he  had  never 
thought  of  her  marrying;  he  felt  so  confident  of 
that  fierce  love  she  had  so  often  confessed  for  him ; 
he  had  come  back  repentant,  ashamed  of  the  burn 
ing  offense  he  had  then  taken,  determined  to  let 
bygones  be  bygones,  and  to  begin,  if  need  be,  a  new 
and  a  more  blameless  way  of  life.  It  was  natural 
for  the  girl  to  side  with  her  father;  to  resent  her 
lover's  violence  and  temper ;  to  show  a  face  as  cold 
275 


WILD   JUSTICE 


as  his  own  when  he  said  he  would  up  anchor  and 
to  sea.  Fool  that  he  had  been  to  keep  his  word! 
fool  that  he  had  been  to  tear  his  heart  to  pieces 
out  of  pride!  fool  that  he  had  been  to  let  it  stand 
between  him  and  the  woman  he  loved !  His  pride ! 
with  Madge  now  in  Joe  Horble's  arms! 

He  cursed  the  fate  that  had  brought  him  into 
the  same  lagoon  with  the  Edelweiss;  that  had  laid 
his  ship  side  by  side  with  Joe's  dainty  schooner; 
that  shamed  and  mocked  him  with  the  unceasing 
thought  that  Madge — his  Madge — was  aboard  of 
her.  He  paced  up  and  down  the  quarter-deck. 
He  had  more  than  a  mind  to  get  to  sea,  but  the 
gloom  to  windward  daunted  him,  and  he  ordered 
out  the  kedge  instead  and  bade  the  mate  strip  the 
awnings  off  her.  By  Jove!  if  things  grew  blacker 
he'd  house  his  topmasts.  Then  he  looked  again 
at  the  little  Edelweiss,  and  tried  to  keep  back  the 
thought  of  Horble  sitting  there  below  with  Madge. 

He  had  to  see  her.  He  was  mad  to  see  her. 
The  thought  of  her  tortured  and  tempted  him  with 
out  end.  Suppose  she,  too,  had  learned  that  love 
is  stronger  than  oneself;  that  the  mouth  can  say 
Yes  when  the  heart  within  is  breaking;  that  she, 
like  himself,  had  found  the  time  to  repent  her 
folly?  Was  he  the  man  to  leave  her  thus;  to 
acquiesce  tamely  in  a  decision  that  was  doubtless 
already  abhorrent  to  her;  to  remain  with  unlifted 
hand  when  she  might  be  on  fire  for  the  sign  to 
276 


THE   LABOR    CAPTAIN 


come  to  him?  No,  by  God!  he'd  beg  her  forgive 
ness  and  offer  her  the  choice.  Yes  or  No !  It  was 
for  her  to  choose. 

He  jumped  into  the  dinghy  and  pulled  over  to 
the  schooner.  Small  at  a  distance,  she  seemed  to 
shrink  as  he  drew  near  her,  so  that  when  he  stood 
up  he  was  surprised  to  find  his  head  above  the  rail. 
So  this  was  Horble,  this  coarse,  red-faced  trader, 
with  the  pug  nose,  the  fat  hands,  the  faded  blue 
eyes  that  met  his  own  so  sourly! 

"  Captain  Horble  ?  "  said  Gregory  Cole. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  aboard,"  said  Horble. 

They  shook  hands  and  sat  side  by  side  on  the 
rail. 

"  Where's  Madge  ?  "  said  Gregory. 

"  Mrs.  Horble's  ashore,"  said  the  captain. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can  never  call  her  anything  but 
Madge,"  said  Gregory,  detecting  the  covert  re 
proach  in  the  other's  voice. 

Horble  was  plainly  ill  at  ease.  His  face  turned 
a  deeper  red.  He  was  on  the  edge  of  blurting  out 
a  disagreeable  remark,  and  then  hesitated,  making 
an  inarticulate  sound  in  his  throat.  Like  everybody 
else,  he  was  afraid  of  the  labor  captain. 

"  Crew's  ashore,  too,"  said  Gregory,  glancing 
about  the  empty  deck. 

"  There  ain't  no  crew,"  muttered  Horble. 

"  Thunder !  "   cried   Gregory.     "  Do  you   do  it 
with  electricity,  or  what  ?  " 
277 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"  Me  and  Madge  runs  her,"  returned  Horble. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  she  pully-hauls  your  damn 
ropes  ?  "  exclaimed  Gregory. 

"  Yes/'  said  Horble.  "  What's  twenty  tons  be 
tween  the  two  of  us  ?  " 

"  And  cooks  ?  "  said  Gregory. 

"And  cooks,"  said  Horble. 

"  You  don't  believe  in  lapping  your  wife  in  lux 
ury  !  "  exclaimed  Gregory. 

"  Madge  and  I  talked  it  over,"  said  Horble.  "  I 
was  for  trading  ashore,  but  her  heart  was  set  on 
the  schooner.  I  can  make  twice  the  money  this 
way  and  please  her  in  the  bargain." 

"  I  know  she  can  sail  a  boat  against  anybody," 
said  Gregory,  wincing  at  the  remark. 

Horble  spat  in  the  water  and  said  nothing.  His 
fat,  broad  back  said,  plainer  than  words :  "  You're 
an  intruder !  Get  out !  " 

"  I  believe  she's  aboard  this  very  minute,"  said 
Gregory  with  a  strange  smile. 

"  She's  ashore,  I  tell  you,"  said  Horble  sullenly. 

"  I'll  just  run  below  and  make  sure,"  said 
Gregory. 

He  slipped  down  the  little  companion  way,  looked 
about  the  empty  cabin  and  peered  into  the  semi- 
darkness  of  the  only  stateroom. 

"  Madge !  "  he  cried.     "  Madge !  " 

Horble  had  not  lied  to  him.  There  was  not  a 
soul  below.  But  on  the  cabin  table  he  saw  Madge's 
278 


THE   LABOR    CAPTAIN 


sewing  machine  and  a  half-made  dress  of  cotton 
print.  She  had  always  been  fond  of  books,  and 
there,  in  the  corner,  was  her  little  bookcase,  taken 
bodily  from  her  old  home  in  Nonootch.  Scattered 
about  here  and  there  were  other  things  that  brought 
her  memory  painfully  back  to  him;  that  hurt  him 
with  their  familiarity ;  that  caused  him  to  lift  them 
up  and  hold  them  with  a  sort  of  despairing  wonder : 
her  guitar,  her  worn,  lock-fast  desk;  the  old  gilt 
photograph  album  he  remembered  so  well.  He  sat 
down  at  the  table  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 
What  a  fool  he  had  been!  What  a  fool  he  had 
been! 

He  was  roused  by  the  sound  of  Horble's  foot 
steps  down  the  ladder.  With  his  head  leaning  on 
his  hand,  he  looked  at  the  big  naked  feet  feeling 
for  the  steps,  then  at  the  uncouth  clothes  as  they 
gradually  appeared,  then  at  the  fat,  weak,  fright 
ened  face  of  the  man  himself.  He  grew  sick  at 
the  sight  of  him.  Would  Horble  strike  him? 
Would  Horble  have  the  grit  to  order  him  off  the 
ship?  No;  the  infernal  coward  was  getting  out 
the  gin — a  bottle  of  square-face  and  two  glasses. 

"  Say  when,"  said  Horble. 

"  When,"  said  Gregory. 

Horble  tipped  the  bottle  into  his  own  glass.  A 
second  mate's  grog!  One  could  see  what  the  fel 
low  drank. 

"  Here's  luck,"  said  Gregory. 
279 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"Drink  hearty,"  said  Horble. 

"Joe  Horble,"  said  Gregory,  leaning  both  el 
bows  on  the  table,  "there's  something  you  ought 
to  know :  I  love  Madge,  and  Madge  loves  me ! " 

Horble  gasped. 

"  She's  mine !  "  said  Gregory. 

Horble  helped  himself  to  some  more  gin,  and 
then  slowly  wiped  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his 
hand. 

"  You're  forgetting  she's  my  wife,"  he  said. 

"  I'll  give  you  a  thousand  pounds  for  her,  cash 
and  bills,"  said  Gregory. 

"  You  can't  sell  white  women,"  said  Horble. 
"  She  ain't  labor." 

"  A  thousand  pounds !  "  repeated  Gregory. 

"  I  won't  sell  my  wife  to  no  man,"  said  Horble. 

The  pair  looked  at  each  other.  Horble's  hand 
felt  for  the  gin  again.  His  speech  had  grown  a 
little  thick.  He  was  angry  and  flustered,  and  a 
dull  resentment  was  mantling  his  heavy  face. 

"  I'll  go  the  schooner,"  cried  Gregory.  "  The 
Northern  Light  as  she  lies  there  this  minute,  not 
a  dollar  owing  on  her  bottom,  with  two  hundred 
pounds  of  specie  in  her  safe.  Lock,  stock,  and 
barrel,  she's  yours !  " 

Horble  shook  his  head. 

"  Madge  ain't  for  sale,"  he  said. 

"  Please  yourself,"  said  Gregory.     "  You'll  end 
by  losing  her  for  nothing." 
280 


THE   LABOR    CAPTAIN 


11  Captain  Cole,"  said  Horble,  "  Madge  has  told 
me  how  near  it  was  a  go  between  you  and  her, 
and  how,  if  you  hadn't  cleared  out  so  sudden  the 
way  you  did,  she  would  have  married  you  in  spite 
of  old  Blanchard.  But  when  you  went  away  like 
that  you  left  the  field  clear,  and  you  mustn't  bear 
me  no  malice  for  having  stepped  in  and  taken  your 
leavings.  What's  done's  done,  and  it's  a  sorry 
game  to  come  back  too  late  and  insult  a  man  who 
never  did  you  no  harm." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Gregory. 

"  If  you  choose,"  continued  Horble  in  his  tone 
of  wounded  reasonableness,  "  you  can  make  a 
power  of  mischief  between  me  and  Madge.  I 
don't  think  it  comes  very  well  from  you  to  do  it; 
I  don't  think  anything  that  calls  himself  a  man 
would  do  it;  least  of  all  a  genelman  like  yourself, 
whom  we  all  respeck  and  look  up  to.  Captain 
Cole,  if  you've  lost  Madge,  you  know  you  can 
only  blame  yourself." 

"  I  don't  call  her  lost,"  said  Gregory. 

"  Captain  Cole,"  said  Horble,  calmly  but  with 
a  quiver  of  his  lip,  "  we'll  take  another  drink  and 
then  we'll  say  good-by." 

"  I'm  not  going  till  I  see  Madge,"  said  Gregory. 

Horble  began  to  tremble. 

"  It's  for  Madge  to  decide,"  added  Gregory. 

"  Decide  what  ?  "  demanded  Horble  in  a  husky; 
stutter. 

281 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"  Between  you  and  me,  old  fellow,"  said  Gregory. 

"  And  you've  the  gall  to  say  that  on  my  ship, 
at  my  table,  about  my  wife !  "  exclaimed  Horble, 
punctuating  the  sentence  with  the  possessive. 

"  Yes,"  said  Gregory. 

Horble  sat  awhile  silent.  He  was  obviously  turn 
ing  the  matter  over  in  his  head.  He  said  at  last 
he  would  go  on  deck  and  take  another  look  to  wind 
ward. 

"  There's  a  power  of  dirt  to  windward ! "  he 
said. 

Gregory,  left  to  himself,  edged  closer  against 
the  bulkhead.  He  felt  that  something  was  about 
to  happen,  and  he  was  in  the  sort  of  humor  to  never 
mind  what.  It  did  not  even  worry  him  to  think 
he  was  unarmed. 

The  companion  way  darkened  with  Horble's 
body,  and  the  big  naked  feet  again  floundered 
for  the  steps.  As  they  deliberately  descended, 
Gregory  changed  his  place,  taking  the  corner  by 
the  lazarette  door,  where,  at  any  rate,  he  could 
only  be  attacked  in  front.  Horble's  face  plainly 
showed  discomfiture  at  this  move,  and  his  right 
hand  went  hurriedly  behind  his  back.  Gregory 
was  conscious  of  a  belaying  pin  being  whipped 
out  of  sight,  and  in  an  instant  he  was  roused  and 
tense,  his  nostrils  vibrating  with  a  sense  of  danger. 
The  two  men  stared  at  each  other,  and  then  Horble 
backed  into  the  stateroom,  remarking  with  furtive 
282 


THE   LABOR    CAPTAIN 


insincerity,  "  There's  a  power  of  dirt  to  wind 
ward  ! "  This  said,  the  door  went  shut  behind 
him.  Gregory  sprang  to  his  feet  and  burst  it  open 
with  his  powerful  shoulders,  crushing  Horble 
against  the  bunk,  who,  pistol  in  hand,  fired  at  him 
point  blank.  The  bullet  went  wide,  and  there  was 
a  sound  of  shattering  glass.  Gregory's  hands 
clenched  themselves  on  Horble's,  and  the  revolver 
twisted  this  way  and-  that  under  the  double  grasp. 
Horble  was  panting  like  a  steam  engine;  his  lower 
jaw  hung  open,  and  he  cried  as  he  fought,  the  tears 
streaking  his  red  face ;  there  was  an  agonized  light 
in  his  eyes,  for  his  forefinger  was  breaking  in  the 
trigger  guard.  A  hair's  breadth  more  and  he  could 
have  driven  a  bullet  through  his  opponent's  body; 
a  twist  the  other  way — and  he  moaned  and  ground 
his  teeth  and  frenziedly  strove  to  regain  what  he 
had  lost.  Suddenly  he  let  go,  snatched  his  left 
hand  clear,  and  throttled  Gregory  against  the  wall. 
Gregory,  suffocating,  his  eyes  starting  from  their 
sockets,  his  mouth  dribbling  blood  and  froth,  strug 
gled  with  supreme  desperation  for  the  pistol.  Get 
ting  it  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  and  eluding  Hor 
ble's  right  hand,  he  fired  twice  through  the  armpit 
down. 

Horble  sank  at  the  first  shot,  and  received  the 

second  kneeling.     Then  he  toppled  backward,  and 

lay  in  a  twitching  heap  against  the  drawers  below 

the  bunk,  groaning  and  coughing.     Gregory,  with 

283 


WILD   JUSTICE 


averted  face,  gave  him  another  shot  behind  the  ear, 
and  another  through  the  mouth,  and  then  went  out, 
sick  and  faint,  shutting  the  stateroom  door  behind 
him.  He  sat  for  a  long  time  beside  the  table,  abso 
lutely  spent,  and  still  holding  the  revolver  in  his 
hand.  He  was  shaking  in  a  chill,  though  the  tem 
perature  was  over  eighty,  and  the  cabin,  when  he 
had  first  entered  it,  had  seemed  to  him  overpower- 
ingly  hot  and  stifling.  He  warmed  himself  with 
a  nip  of  gin.  He  looked  over  his  clothes  for  a 
trace  of  blood,  and  was  thankful  to  find  none.  He 
took  off  his  coat;  he  examined  the  soles  of  his 
shoes.  No  blood !  Thank  God,  no  blood ! 

He  went  on  deck  and  cast  the  revolver  over 
board,  standing  at  the  taffrail  and  watching  it  sink. 
Even  in  the  time  he  had  been  below  the  wind  had 
risen;  it  was  blowing  great  guns  to  seaward,  and 
the  lagoon  itself  was  white  and  broken  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  Aboard  his  own  schooner  they 
were  busy  housing  the  topmasts,  and  the  yeo-heave- 
yeo  of  straining  voices  warned  him  that  Cracroft 
was  hoisting  in  the  boats  and  making  everything 
snug. 

Gregory  leaned  against  the  wheel  and  tried  to 
think.  To  throw  Horble's  body  overboard  would 
be  to  accomplish  nothing.  The  blood,  the  shot 
holes,  the  disordered  cabin,  would  all  betray  him. 
To  scuttle  the  schooner  with  a  stick  of  dynamite 
was  a  better  plan,  but  that  involved  returning  to 
284 


the  Northern  Light,  with  the  possibility  of  Madge 
coming  off  in  the  interval  and  discovering  the  mur 
der  for  herself.  No,  the  risk  of  that  appalled  him. 
Besides,  whatever  happened,  he  had  another  reason 
for  keeping  the  truth  from  Madge.  The  fact  of 
Horble's  death,  e'ven  if  she  thought  it  accidental, 
would  shock  her  to  the  core.  It  was  inconceivable 
that  she  would  feel  anything  but  horror  stricken, 
whether  she  judged  her  former  lover  innocent  or 
not.  She  might  even  undergo  a  terrible  remorse. 
At  such  a  moment  how  little  likely  she  would  be 
to  give  way  to  him!  Of  course  she  would  refuse. 
Any  woman  would  refuse.  Every  restraining  in 
fluence  would  be  massed  against  him.  No,  his 
only  hope  lay  in  getting  her  aboard  his  schooner 
and  out  of  the  lagoon  before  the  least  suspicion 
could  dawn  upon  her.  Once  away,  and  it  might 
be  two  years  before  she  might  even  hear  of '  Hor 
ble's  death.  Once  away,  and  the  empty  seas  would 

keep  his  secret.    Once  away 

He  studied  the  weather  with  a  new  and  con 
suming  anxiety.  How  could  he  manage  to  get  out 
at  all,  or  pick  a  course  through  the  middle  chan 
nel!  It  was  thick  with  coral  rocks,  and  in  a  day 
so  overcast  the  keenest  eye  aloft  would  be  at  fault. 
And  outside,  what  then  ?  By  God !  it  was  working 
up  to  a  hurricane.  To  run  before  it  would  be 
courting  death.  Hove  to,  he  would  be  cramped 
for  room,  with  three  big  islands  on  his  lee.  In  his 
285 


WILD   JUSTICE 


lawless  and  desperate  past  he  had  taken  many  a 
fall  with  fortune ;  he  was  accustomed  to  weigh  the 
danger  of  perilous  alternatives;  he  knew  what  it 
was  to  hazard  everything  on  his  own  vigilance  and 
skill,  and  to  bear  with  a  sailor's  fatalism  the  throw 
of  those  dread  dice  on  which  his  own  life  had 
been  so  often  staked.  But  to  stake  Madge's  life! 
Madge,  whom  he  loved  so  dearly!  Madge,  for 
whom  he  would  have  died !  And  yet  there  was 
something  sublime  in  the  thought  of  taking  her 
in  his  arms  and  driving  before  the  gale,  the  storm 
sails  treble  reefed  on  the  bending  yards,  the  decks 
awash  from  end  to  end,  Madge  beside  him,  the 
pitchy  night  in  front,  the  engulfing  seas  behind; 
to  swim  or  sink,  to  ride  or  smother,  accepting  their 
fate  together,  and,  if  need  be,  drowning  at  the  last 
in  each  other's  arms. 

He  looked  toward  the  settlement  and  saw  a 
crowd  of  natives  pushing  a  whaleboat  into  the 
water;  looked  again,  and  saw  old  Maka  taking 
his  place  in  the  stern  sheets  and  assisting  a  woman 
in  beside  him.  The  woman !  It  needed  no  second 
glance  to  tell  him  it  was  Madge.  He  had  never 
counted  on  her  coming  off  in  company.  Fool  that 
he  was,  he  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  she  would 
be  alone.  Everything,  in  fact,  turned  on  her  being 
alone.  Then,  with  a  start,  he  remembered  his  own 
dinghy,  and  how  it  would  be  tray  him.  He  had 
made  it  fast  on  the  schooner's  starboard  quarter, 
286 


THE   LABOR    CAPTAIN 


near  the  little  accommodation  ladder.  Going  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  lest  his  head  should  be  seen  above 
the  shallow  rail,  he  unloosed  the  painter,  worked 
the  boat  astern,  and  drew  it  in  again  to  port.  Then 
he  crouched  down  in  the  alleyway  and  waited. 

A  few  minutes  later  and  the  whaler  was  bump 
ing  against  the  schooner's  side.  It  might  have  been 
bumping  against  Gregory's  heart,  so  agonizing  was 
the  suspense  as  he  lay  breathless  and  cramped  be 
tween  the  coffinlike  width  of  house  and  rail. 

"  It  was  kind  of  you  to  bring  me  off,  Maka," 
said  Madge. 

The  old  Hawaiian  laughed  musically  in  denial. 
"  No,  no !  "  he  cried. 

"  You  must  come  below  and  see  the  captain," 
said  Madge. 

Gregory  was  in  a  cold  sweat  of  apprehension. 

"  Too  much  storm,"  said  Maka  doubtfully.  "  I 
go  home  now,  and  put  rocks  on  the  church  roof." 

"  Five  minutes  won't  matter,"  said  Madge. 

Again  Gregory  trembled. 

"  More  better  I  go  home  quick,"  said  Maka. 
"  No  rocks,  no  roof !  " 

The  boat  shoved  off,  the  crew  striking  up  a  song. 
Madge  seemed  to  remain  standing  at  the  gangway 
where  they  had  left  her.  Gregory  felt  by  instinct 
that  she  was  gazing  at  the  Northern  Light,  and 
that  as  she  gazed  she  sighed;  that  she  was  lost  in 
reverie  and  was  loath  to  go  below. 
287 


WILD   JUSTICE 


He  rose  stiffly  from  his  hiding  place.  Even  as 
he  did  so  it  came  over  him  that  he  was  extraordi 
narily  tired — so  tired  that  he  swayed  as  he  stood 
and  looked  at  her. 

"  Madge ! "  he  said  in  almost  a  whisper. 
"Madge!" 

She  turned  instantly,  paling  as  she  saw  who  con 
fronted  her. 

"  Greg !  "  she  cried. 

For  a  moment  they  stared  at  each  other  speech 
less.  Then  he  leaped  on  the  house  and  ran  to  her, 
she  shrinking  back  from  him  as  he  tried  to  take 
her  hands. 

"  You  must  not ! "  she  cried,  as  he  would  have 
kissed  her.  "  Greg,  you  must  not !  I'm  married. 
It's  all  different  now." 

He  tried  to  put  his  arms  around  her,  but  she 
pushed  him  fiercely  back.  Her  eyes  were  flashing, 
and  her  bosom  rose  and  fell. 

"  I'm  Joe's  wife,"  she  said. 

Then,  from  his  face,  she  seemed  to  divine  some 
thing. 

"What  have  you  done  to  Joe?"  she  cried.  She 
would  have  passed  him,  but  he  stopped  her. 

"  No,  no !  "  he  protested. 

"  Let  me  go,  or  I  shall  call  him,"  she  broke 
out.  "You  sha'n't  insult  me!  You  sha'n't  kiss 
me!" 

He  was  kissing  her  even  as  he  held  her  back, 
288 


THE   LABOR    CAPTAIN 


even  as  she  fought  and  struggled  with  him — on 
the  lips,  on  the  neck,  on  her  black,  loosened  hair, 
now  tangling  and  flying  in  the  wind.  He  was  so 
weak  that  she  soon  got  the  better  of  him — so 
weak  and  dizzy  that  he  did  not  guard  himself 
as  she  struck  him  on  the  mouth  with  her  little 
doubled-up  fist. 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  lip  and  found  it  bleeding. 
He  showed  her  what  she  had  done.  She  drew 
back,  and  regarded  him  with  mingled  pity  and 
exultation. 

"Now  will  you  let  me  go?"  she  cried. 

"  Madge,"  he  returned,  "  Joe's  drunk  in  his 
berth.  I  made  him  drunk,  Madge.  I  had  to  talk 
to  you  alone,  and  there  was  no  other  way." 

She  was  stung  to  the  quick.  Her  husband's 
shame  was  hers,  and  it  was  somehow  plain  that 
Horble  had  been  at  fault  before.  She  never  thought 
to  doubt  Greg's  word,  though  his  callousness  re 
volted  her. 

"What  is  It  you  want  to  say?"  she  said  at  last 
in  an  altered  voice. 

"  To  ask  you  to  forgive  me." 

"  For  what?  for  taking  advantage  of  Joe's  one 
failing?" 

"  No ;  for  leaving  you  the  way  I  did." 

"  I'll  never  do  that,  Greg — never,  never,  never ! " 

"  Your  father " 

"Don't  try  and  blame  my  father,  Greg." 
289 


WILD   JUSTICE 


"  I  blame  only  myself." 

"  Why  have  you  come  back  to  torture  me  ?  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  You  said  it  was  forever.  You  cast 
me  off,  when  I  cried,  and  tried  to  keep  you.  You 
said  I'd  never  see  you  again." 

"  I  was  a  fool,  Madge." 

"Then  accept  the  consequences,  and  leave  me 
alone." 

"And  if  I  can't " 

She  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes.  "  I  am 
Joe's  wife,"  she  said. 

"  Madge,"  he  said,  "  I  am  not  trying  to  defend 
myself.  I'm  throwing  myself  on  your  mercy.  I'm 
begging  you,  on  my  knees,  for  what  I  threw  away. 


"  You've  broken  my  heart,"  she  said ;  "  why 
should  I  mind  if  you  break  yours  ?  " 

"  Madge,"  he  cried,  "  in  ten  minutes  we  can  be 
aboard  the  Northern  Light  and  under  weigh ;  in  an 
hour  we  can  be  outside  the  reef;  in  two,  and  this 
cursed  island  will  sink  forever  behind  us,  and  no 
one  here  will  ever  see  us  again  or  know  whither 
we  have  gone.  Let  us  follow  the  gale,  and  push 
into  new  seas,  among  new  people — Tahiti,  Mar 
quesas,  the  Pearl  Islands — where  we  shall  win  back 
our  lost  happiness,  and  find  our  love  only  the 
stronger  for  what  we've  suffered." 

She  pointed  to  the  windward  sky.     "  I  think  I 
know  the  port  we'd  make,"  she  said. 
290 


THE   LABOR    CAPTAIN 


"  Then  make  it,"  he  cried,  "  and  go  down  to  it 
in  each  other's  arms." 

For  a  moment  she  looked  at  him  in  a  sort  of 
exaltation.  She  seemed  to  hesitate  no  longer.  Her 
hot  hands  reached  for  his,  and  he  felt  in  her  quick 
and  tumultuous  breath  the  first  token  of  her  sur 
render.  Herself  a  child  of  the  sea,  brought  up 
from  infancy  among  boats  and  ships,  her  hand  as 
true  on  the  tiller,  her  sparkling  eyes  as  keen  to 
watch  the  luff  of  a  sail  as  any  man's,  she  knew 
as  well  as  Gregory  the  hell  that  awaited  them  out 
side.  To  accept  so  terrible  an  ordeal  seemed  like 
a  purification  of  her  dishonor.  If  she  died,  she 
would  die  unstained;  if  she  lived,  it  would  be 
after  such  a  bridal  that  would  obliterate  her  tie 
to  the  sot  below.  Then,  on  the  eve  of  her  giving 
way,  as  every  line  in  her  body  showed  her  longing, 
as  her  head  drooped  as  though  to  find  a  resting 
place  on  the  breast  of  the  man  she  loved,  she  sud 
denly  called  up  all  her  resolution  and  tore  herself 
free. 

"  I'm  Joe's  wife ! "  she  said. 

Gregory  faltered  as  he  tried  again  to  plead  with 
her;  but  in  his  mind's  eye  he  saw  that  stiffening 
corpse  below,  lying  stark  and  bloody  on  the  cabin 
floor. 

"  You  gave  me  to  him,"  she  burst  out.  "  I'm 
his,  Greg.  I  will  not  betray  my  husband  for  any 
man." 

291 


WILD   JUSTICE 


Again  he  besought  her  to  go  with  him.  But 
the  moment  of  her  madness  had  passed.  She  lis 
tened  unmoved,  and  when  at  last  he  stopped  in 
despair,  she  bade  him  take  his  boat  and  go. 

He  sat  down  on  the  rail  instead,  his  eyes  defy 
ing  her. 

She  stepped  aft,  and  his  heart  stood  still  as  she 
seemed  on  the  point  of  descending  the  companion. 
But  she  had  another  purpose  in  mind.  Throwing 
aside  the  gaskets,  she  stripped  the  sail  covers  off 
the  mainsail  and  began,  with  practiced  hands,  to 
reef  down  to  the  third  reef.  Then  she  went  for 
ward  and  did  the  same  to  the  forestaysail.  A  min 
ute  later,  hardly  knowing  why  or  how,  except  that 
he  was  helping  Madge,  Gregory,  like  a  man  in  a 
dream,  was  pulling  with  her  on  the  halyards  of 
both  sails.  The  wind  thundered  in  them  as  they 
rose;  the  main  boom  jerked  violently  at  the  sheet 
and  lashed  to  and  fro  the  width  of  the  deck;  the 
anchor  chain  fretted  and  sawed  in  the  hawse  hole ; 
the  whole  schooner  strained  and  creaked  and  shook 
to  the  keelson.  Gregory,  in  amazement,  asked 
Madge  what  she  was  doing. 

"  Going  to  sea,  Greg,"  she  said. 

"Alone?  he  cried.    "Alone?" 

"Joe  and  I,"  she  said. 

It  was  on  his  tongue  to  tell  her  Joe  was  dead; 
but,  though  he  tried,  he  could  not  do  so.  It  wasn't 
in  flesh  and  blood  to  tell  her  he  had  killed  her 
292 


THE   LABOR   CAPTAIN 


husband.  He  could  only  look  at  her  helplessly, 
and  say  over  and  over  again,  "  To  sea ! " 

"  Greg,"  she  said,  "  I  mean  to  leave  you  while 
I  am  brave — while  I  am  yet  able  to  resist — while 
I  can  still  remember  I  am  Joe's  wife ! " 

"  And  drown,"  he  said. 

"  What  do  I  care  if  I  do?  "  she  returned.  "  What 
do  I  care  for  anything  ?  " 

"  If  it's  to  be  one  or  the  other,"  he  said,  "  I'll 
go  myself.  With  my  big  schooner  I'd  have  twice 
the  chance  you'd  have." 

She  put  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  kissed  him. 
"  You  sweet  traitor,"  she  said,  "  you'd  play  rue 
false ! " 

He  protested  vehemently  that  he  would  not  de 
ceive  her. 

"  Besides,"  she  said,  "  I  could  risk  myself,  but 
I  couldn't  bear  to  risk  you,  Greg." 

He  tried  a  last  shot.  The  words  almost  stran 
gled  in  his  throat. 

"And  Joe?"  he  said.  "Have  you  no  thought 
of  Joe?" 

"  Joe  loves  me,"  she  said — "  loves  me  a  thousand 
times  better  than  you  ever  did.  Joe's  man  enough 
to  chance  death  rather  than  lose  his  wife." 

"  But  I  won't  let  you  go ! "  said  Gregory. 

"  You  can't  stop  me,"  she  returned. 

He  caught  her  round  the  body  and  tried  to  hold 
her,  but  she  fought  herself  free.  His  strength  was 

293 


WILD   JUSTICE 


gone;  he  was  as  feeble  as  a  child;  in  the  course 
of  those  short  hours  something  seemed  to  have 
snapped  within  him.  Even  Madge  was  startled 
at  his  weakness. 

"  Greg,  you're  ill ! "  she  cried,  as  he  staggered, 
and  caught  at  a  backstay  to  save  himself  from 
falling.  He  sat  down  on  the  house  and  tried  to 
keep  back  a  sob.  Madge  stooped,  and  looked  anx 
iously  into  his  face.  She  had  known  him  for  two 
years  as  a  man  of  unusual  sternness  and  self- 
control;  obstinate,  reserved,  willful,  and  moody, 
yet  one  that  gave  always  the  impression  of  un 
flinching  courage  and  resolution.  It  was  inexplica 
ble  now  to  see  him  crying  like  a  woman,  his  square 
shoulders  bent  and  heaving,  his  sinewy  hands  open 
ing  and  shutting  convulsively. 

"  You're  ill,"  she  repeated.  "  I'll  go  down  and 
fetch  you  something." 

This  pulled  him  together.  "  I'm  all  right, 
Madge,"  he  said  faintly.  "  I  suppose  it's  just  a 
touch  of  the  old  fever.  See,  it's  passing  already." 

She  watched  him  in  silence.  Then  she  stepped 
forward,  dropped  down  the  forecastle  hatchway, 
and  reappeared  with  an  ax.  While  he  was  won 
dering  what  she  meant  to  do,  she  raised  it  in  the 
air  and  crashed  it  down  on  the  groaning  anchor 
chain.  It  parted  at  the  first  blow,  and  the  Edel 
weiss,  now  adrift,  blundered  broadside  on  to  lee 
ward. 

294 


THE   LABOR    CAPTAIN 


Madge  ran  aft,  brought  the  schooner  up  in  the 
wind,  and  cried  out  to  Gregory  to  get  into  his 
boat. 

He  said  sullenly  he  wouldn't  do  anything  of  the 
kind. 

She  lashed  the  wheel  and  came  up  to  him. 

"  I  mean  it,  Greg,"  she  said. 

"  You  are  going  to  your  death,  Madge,"  he  said. 

"  Get  into  your  boat !  "  she  repeated. 

He  rose,  and  slowly  began  to  obey. 

"  You  may  kiss  me  good-by,  Greg,"  she  said. 

She  put  up  her  face  to  his ;  their  lips  met.  Then, 
with  her  arm  around  him,  she  half  forced,  half 
supported  him  to  the  port  quarter,  where  his  boat 
was  slopping  against  the  side.  He  wanted  to  re 
sist;  he  wanted  to  cry  out  and  tell  her  the  truth, 
but  a  strange,  leaden  powerlessness  benumbed  him. 
He  got  into  the  dinghy,  drew  in  the  dripping 
painter  she  cast  after  him,  and  watched  her  ease 
the  sheet  and  set  the  vessel  scudding  for  the  pas 
sage.  With  her  black  hair  flying  in  the  wind,  her 
bare  arms  resting  lightly  on  the  wheel,  her  straight, 
girlish,  supple  figure  bending  with  the  heel  of  the 
deck,  she  never  faltered  nor  looked  back  as  the 
water  whitened  and  boiled  in  the  schooner's  wake. 

Gregory  came  to  himself  in  his  own  cabin.    Cra- 
croft,  the  mate,  was  bending  over  him  with  a  bottle 
of  whisky.     The  Malita  steward  was  chafing  his 
295 


WILD   JUSTICE 


naked  feet.     Overhead  the  rush  and  roar  of  the 

gale  broke  pitilessly  on  his  ears. 

"  The  Edelweiss  \  "  he  gasped ;  "  the  Edelweiss  \  " 
"  Went  down  an  hour  ago,  sir,"  said  Cracroft 

grimly. 


A    SON    OF    EMPIRE 

RAKA-HANGA  is  a  dot  of  an  island  in  the  mid- 
Pacific,  and  so  far  from  anywhere  that  it  doesn't 
belong  to  a  group — as  most  islands  do — but  is  all 
by  its  lonesome  in  the  heave  and  roll  of  the 
emptiest  ocean  in  the  world.  In  my  time  it  was 
just  big  enough  to  support  two  traders,  not  counting 
old  man  Fosby,  who  had  sort  of  retired  and  laid 
down  life's  burden  in  a  Kanaka  shack,  where  if  he 
did  anything  at  all  it  was  making  bonito  hooks  for 
his  half-caste  family  or  playing  the  accordion  with 
his  trembly  old  fingers. 

It  was  me  and  Stanley  Hicks  that  divided  the 
trade  of  the  place,  which  was  poor  to  middling,  with 
maybe  a  couple  of  hundred  tons  of  copra  a  year  and 
as  much  pearl  shell  as  the  natives  cared  to  get.  It 
was  deep  shell,  you  understand,  and  sometimes  a 
diver  went  down  and  never  came  up,  and  you  could 
see  him  shimmering  down  below  like  the  back  of  a 
shark,  as  dead  as  a  doornail.  Nobody  would  dive 
after  that,  and  a  whole  year  might  pass  with  the 
Kanakas  still  holding  back  unless  there  was  a  church 
assessment  or  a  call  for  something  special  like  a 
sewing  machine  or  a  new  boat.  It  averaged  any- 

297 


WILD  JUSTICE 


where  from  five  tons  to  sixty,  and  often,  as  I  said, 
nothing  at  all. 

I  had  got  rooted  in  Raka-hanga,  and  so  had  Stan 
ley  Hicks,  and  though  we  both  had  ideas  of  getting 
away  and  often  talked  of  it,  we  never  did — being 
like  people  half  asleep  in  a  feather  bed,  with  life 
drifting  on  unnoticed,  and  the  wind  rustling  in  the 
palms,  and  one  summer  day  so  like  another  that  you 
lost  count  of  time  altogether. 

You  would  have  to  go  far  to  see  a  prettier  island 
than  Raka-hanga,  or  nicer,  friendlier,  finer-looking 
people;  and  when  I  say  they  never  watered  their 
copra  on  us,  nor  worked  any  of  those  heartbreaking 
boycotts  to  bring  prices  down,  you  can  realize  how 
much  out  of  the  beaten  track  it  was  and  how  little 
they  had  yet  learned  of  civilization.  They  were  too 
simple  and  easy-going  for  their  own  good  and  that's 
a  fact,  for  they  allowed  David,  the  Tongan  pastor, 
t«  walk  all  over  them,  which  he  did  right  royal  with 
his  great,  fat,  naked  feet ;  and  when  anything  didn't 
please  this  here  David  nor  the  deacons,  they  stuck 
him  or  her  in  the  coral  jail  and  locked  the  door  on 
him — or  her — as  the  case  might  be  and  usually  was. 

We  were  what  might  be  called  a  republic,  having 
no  king  and  being  supposed  to  be  ruled  by  the  old 
men,  who  met  from  time  to  time  in  a  wicker-work 
building  that  looked  more  like  a  giant  clothes-basket 
than  anything  resembling  a  house.  Yes,  Raka-hanga 
was  an  independent  country,  and  no  flag  floated  over 

298 


A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 


us  but  our  own— or  would  have  if  we  had  had  one, 
which  we  hadn't.  Of  course  Stanley  and  I  knew  it 
could  not  last  like  this  forever,  and  even  the  natives 
weren't  unprepared  for  our  being  annexed  some  day 
by  a  passing  man-of-war — though  all  hoped  it  would 
go  on  as  it  was,  with  nobody  interfering  with  us  nor 
pasting  proclamations  on  trees.  It  is  all  very  fine  to 
see  "Goo  SAVE  THE  QUEEN"  or  "VIVE  LA  REPUB- 
LIQUE"  at  the  bottom  of  a  proclamation,  but 
Stanley  and  I  knew  it  meant  taxes  and  licenses 
and  penal  servitude  if  you  did  this  or  failed  to  do 
that,  and  all  those  other  blessings  that  are  served  out 
to  a  Pacific  island  when  one  of  the  great  powers 
suddenly  discovers  it  on  the  map. 

Our  republic  was  more  in  name  than  anything 
else,  for  old  David,  the  missionary,  ruled  the  island 
with  a  rod  of  iron,  and  was  so  crotchety  and  tyran 
nical  that  no  Kanaka  could  call  his  soul  his  own. 
Every  night  at  nine  he  stood  out  in  front  of  his 
house  and  rang  a  hand  bell,  and  then  woe  betide 
any  one  who  didn't  go  to  bed  instanter  and  shut  up, 
no  matter  if  it  were  in  the  full  of  the  moon  and 
they  in  the  middle  of  a  game  of  cards  or  yarning 
sociable  on  an  upturned  boat. 

One  had  to  get  up  just  as  military  and  autocratic 
— and  as  for  dancing,  why  the  word  itself  could 
hardly  be  said,  let  alone  the  actual  thing,  which 
meant  the  jail  every  time  and  a  dose  of  the  pastor's 
whip  thrown  in  extra.  It  was  a  crime  to  miss 

299 


WILD  JUSTICE 


church,  and  a  crime  to  flirt  or  make  love,  and  the 
biggest  crime  of  all  was  not  to  come  up  handsome 
with  church  offerings  when  they  were  demanded. 
If  you  will  believe  me  it  was  a  crime  to  grieve  too 
much  if  somebody  died — if  the  dead  person  were 
married  that  is,  and  if  you  were  of  the  opposite  sex 
and  not  closely  related! 

As  I  said  before,  the  natives  were  so  easy-going 
that  they  took  it  all  lying  down,  and  allowed  this 
here  David  to  swell  into  a  regular  despot,  though 
there  must  have  been  coming  on  two  thousand  of 
them,  and  him  with  nothing  but  his  bell  and  his 
whip  and  his  big  roaring  voice.  Naturally  he  did 
not  dare  interfere  with  us  white  men,  though  Stan 
ley  and  I  toed  the  line  more  than  we  liked  for  the 
sake  of  business  and  keeping  clear  of  his  ill  will. 
The  only  one  who  wasn't  scared  of  the  old  Tartar, 
and  stood  right  up  to  him,  was  a  hulking  big  Fijian, 
named  Peter  Jones.  Nobody  knew  how  he  came  by 
that  name  for  there  wasn't  a  white  drop  in  his  body, 
he  being  unusually  dark  and  powerful  and  full  of  the 
Old  Nick,  and  with  a  mop  of  hair  on  him  like  you 
never  saw,  it  was  that  thick  and  long  and  stood  out 
on  end  all  round  his  head  which  was  the  Fiji  fashion 
of  wearing  it. 

Peter  could  lick  his  weight  in  wildcats,  as  the 
saying  goes,  and  was  always  ready  to  do  it  at  the 
fall  of  a  hat.  He  was  a  bullying,  overbearing  indi 
vidual  and  had  terrorized  his  way  into  a  family  and 

300 


A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 


married  their  daughter,  helping  himself  promiscuous, 
besides,  to  anything  he  fancied,  with  nobody  daring 
to  cross  him  nor  complain.  Stanley  and  I  were 
afraid  of  him  and  that's  the  truth,  and  gave  him  a 
little  credit  for  peace  and  quietness'  sake,  which  was 
well  worth  an  occasional  can  of  beef  or  a  fathom  or 
two  of  Turkey  cotton. 

Once,  when  there  was  a  ship  in,  he  got  most  out 
rageously  drunk,  and  rolled  about  the  village,  sing 
ing  and  yelling — swigging  from  the  bottle  he  car 
ried  and  stumbling  after  the  girls,  trying  to  hug 
them.  If  ever  there  was  a  scandal  in  Raka-hanga 
it  was  the  sight  of  this  six-foot-three  of  raving, 
roaring  savage,  rough-housing  the  place  upside  down 
and  bellowing  insults  at  the  top  of  his  lungs.  But 
nothing  was  done  to  stop  him  till  the  liquor  took  its 
course,  and  then  old  David,  he  gathered  the  Parlia 
ment  about  him,  and  ran  him  into  the  jail  with  a 
one-two-three  like  a  sack  of  oats. 

But  Peter  Jones  was  none  of  your  stand-up-at- 
the-altar-and-repent-boys,  being  a  white  man  by 
training,  if  not  by  blood,  and  after  he  had  sobered 
up,  what  if  his  wife  didn't  smuggle  him  in  a  knife, 
and  what  if  he  didn't  dig  his  way  out!  Yes,  sir, 
that's  what  Peter  Jones  did — dug  through  the  gravel 
floor  and  tunneled  out,  rising  from  the  grave,  so  to 
speak,  to  the  general  uproar  and  hullabaloo  of  the 
entire  settlement.  Then — no  one  stopping  him — he 
armed  himself  with  an  old  Springfield  rifle  and  an 

301 


WILD  JUSTICE 


ax  and  a  crowbar,  and  the  cry  went  up  he  was  going 
to  murder  the  pastor,  with  the  children  running 
along  in  front  and  the  women  screaming. 

But  Peter  wasn't  gunning  for  any  missionary, 
which  even  in  Raka-hanga  might  have  had  a  nasty 
comeback — the  natives  being  mild  but  not  cowards, 
and  beginning  to  buzz  like  hornets  and  reach  for 
their  sharktooth  spears.  No,  what  Peter  was  in 
flamed  against  was  the  coral  jail,  which  he  set  at 
most  ferocious  with  crowbar  and  ax  until  it  was 
nothing  but  a  heap  of  rubbish.  Then  he  shot  holes 
through  the  galvanized  roofing,  and  burned  it  in  a 
blazing  fire  along  of  the  iron-studded  door  and  win 
dow  framing.  By  this  time  the  missionary  was  try 
ing  to  raise  the  multitude  against  Peter,  but  they 
were  none  too  fond  of  the  coral  jail  themselves  and 
did  nothing  but  hoot  and  shout  like  a  pack  of  boys 
at  a  circus,  which  indeed  it  was  and  enough  to  make 
you  split  your  sides  laughing.  After  that  Peter  was 
let  alone  and  nobody  dared  cross  him,  no  matter 
what  he  did. 

But  this  is  all  by  the  way  to  give  you  an  idea  of 
what  Raka-hanga  was  like,  and  make  the  rest  of  the 
yarn  the  easier  to  understand.  I  shall  always  feel 
sorry  all  my  life  that  Stanley  and  I  were  off  fishing 
on  the  windward  side  of  the  island  and  thereby 
missed  Clemm's  arrival  in  the  lagoon,  which  was 
well  over  before  we  got  there,  with  the  stern  of  a 
ten-oared  boat  heading  for  a  man-of-war,  and  Clemm 

302 


A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 


himself  standing  kind  of  helpless  on  the  beach  in 
the  midst  of  all  his  chests  and  boxes  and  bedding. 

He  made  a  splendid  appearance  in  his  white 
clothes  and  shirt  and  pipe-clayed  shoes  and  pith- 
helmet,  being  a  short,  thick-set  man  with  gray  hair 
and  a  commanding  look.  When  we  came  running 
up  he  spoke  to  us  very  grand,  though  genial,  saying : 
"Gentlemen,  I  am  the  new  Resident  Deputy  Com 
missioner,  and  I  call  on  you  to  assist  me  raise  the 
flag  and  annex  this  island  in  the  name  of  her  Royal 
and  Imperial  Majesty,  Queen  Victoria!" 

At  this  he  took  his  hat  off,  and  we  did  the  same, 
though  I  am  an  American,  and  then  went  on  to  tell 
us  that  he  had  just  been  landed  by  H.M.S.  Ringa- 
rooma  to  take  possession  of  the  island,  and  would 
we  kindly  inform  the  natives  and  escort  him  to  the 
king. 

On  learning  we  were  a  republic  and  that  it  would 
take  time  to  assemble  the  old  men,  he  condescended 
to  accept  my  hospitality  for  a  spell,  and  was  most 
pleased  and  gracious  at  the  little  we  could  do  in  his 
honor.  Meanwhile  messengers  were  sent  to  gather 
in  the  chiefs  and  tell  them  the  great  news,  and  how 
the  Commissioner  was  soon  coming  to  meet  them 
in  the  "Speak-house,"  as  the  natives  called  the 
wickerwork.  Mr.  Clemm  said  the  Ringarooma  had 
been  sent  under  hurry  orders  to  annex  right  and  left 
in  order  to  forestall  the  French,  who  had  broken 
their  international  agreement  and  were  hoisting 

303 


WILD  J  VST  ICE 


their  flag  all  over  the  place.  He  also  explained  that 
was  the  reason  why  the  man-of-war  could  not  stop, 
it  being  a  neck-and-neck  race  between  her  and  the 
French  which  could  reach  the  Tokelaus  first.  Be 
tween  drinks  he  likewise  showed  us  his  commission, 
which  was  written  very  big  and  imposing  on  crinkly 
paper,  with  seals,  where  he  was  called  "Our  well- 
beloved  and  right  trusty  James  Howard  Fitzroy 
Clemm,  Esquire," — as  well  as  the  flag  he  had  brought 
with  him,  which  was  an  eight-by-twelve  ensign,  with 
the  halyards  all  ready  to  run  it  up. 

I  can  tell  you  Stanley  and  I  were  mighty  proud 
to  escort  the  Deputy  Commissioner  to  the  Parlia 
ment,  which  we  did  slow  and  stately  in  our  best 
pajamas,  with  the  natives  reverencing  him  as  he 
passed  and  eying  us  two  most  respectful.  The  old 
men  were  there  in  rows,  and  also  David,  the  pastor, 
who  took  the  interpreting  out  of  my  hands  and  as 
usual  hogged  the  whole  show.  Perhaps  it  was  as 
well  he  did,  for  he  had  a  splendid  voice  and  a 
booming  way  of  speaking  that  suited  the  grandeur 
of  the  occasion. 

Then  Mr.  Clemm's  commission  was  read  aloud, 
first  by  him  in  English  and  then  by  David  in  Kanaka, 
and  afterwards  the  Commissioner  made  a  rousing 
speech,  all  about  the  loving  English  and  the  low, 
contemptible  French,  and  at  the  end  he  asked  every 
body  to  hold  up  his  right  hand  who  wished  to  be  a 
loyal,  faithful,  obedient  subject  of  the  Great  Queen. 

304 


A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 


Up  shot  every  hand  most  grateful  at  the  narrow 
escape  they  had  had  of  being  French ;  and  then  out 
side  it  was  again  repeated,  even  the  children  holding 
up  their  little  paws,  and  the  flag  hoisted  temporary 
to  a  coconut  palm  amid  shouts  of  rejoicing  led  off 
by  Stanley  and  me  and  Peter  Jones  who  had  fol 
lowed  along  after  us. 

The  next  question  was  where  to  lodge  the  Com 
missioner  till  a  proper  house  could  be  built  for  him, 
and  he  showed  he  wasn't  a  gentleman  to  be  trifled 
with  by  cutting  short  their  jabber,  and  choosing 
Fono's,  which  was  the  finest  in  the  settlement,  and 
ordering  him  to  clear  out,  bag  and  baggage — which 
Fono  didn't  want  to  do  and  objected  very  crossly 
till  Peter  Jones  snatched  up  a  rock  and  ran  at  him 
like  he  meant  to  pound  his  head  in.  This  pleased 
Mr.  Clemm  so  much  that  he  right  off  appointed 
Peter  marshal  of  his  court  at  a  salary  of  forty  dol 
lars  a  month,  and  put  him  in  charge  of  shifting  his 
things  into  his  new  quarters. 

I  took  the  liberty  of  warning  Mr.  Clemm  against 
the  Fijian,  but  he  only  threw  back  his  head  and  told 
me  most  cutting  to  kindly  mind  my  own  business. 
But  any  rancor  I  might  have  felt  at  this  disappeared 
when  he  made  me  clerk  of  the  court,  and  Stanley 
tax  collector,  each  at  a  salary  of  sixty  dollars  a 
month,  with  David  "Native  Adviser  and  Official 
Interpreter"  at  the  same  figure. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  new  government, 

305 


WILD  JUSTICE 


with  everything  old  done  away  with,  and  the  first 
official  sign  of  it  was  a  brand-new,  white-painted 
flagpole  with  crosstrees  and  ratlines  in  front  of  the 
fine  big  house  that  was  next  built  for  the  Commis 
sioner  to  live  in.  The  natives  had  to  do  this  for 
nothing,  supplying  forty  men,  turn  and  turn  about, 
though  the  galvanized  iron,  hardware,  paint,  varnish 
and  what  not  were  bought  of  Stanley  and  me,  and 
paid  for  in  taxes.  It  was  a  very  fine  place  when 
done,  with  a  broad  veranda  in  front  and  an  inner 
court  behind,  where  Mr.  Clemm  used  to  lie  in  a 
striped  hammock,  waited  on  hand  and  foot. 

But  I  fancy  the  wicked  French  couldn't  have 
taxed  the  Kanakas  any  harder  than  Mr.  Clemm  did, 
which  was  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  them, 
considering  how  slack  they  were  by  nature  and  not 
given  to  doing  anything  they  could  help.  It  only 
needed  a  little  attention  to  double  the  copra  crop  of 
the  island,  not  to  speak  of  shell — so  that  the  taxes 
were  a  blessing  in  disguise,  the  natives  being  better 
off  than  they  had  ever  been  before.  Of  course  they 
didn't  like  it  and  put  up  a  great  deal  of  opposition 
till  Mr.  Clemm  raised  a  Native  Constabulary  of 
seven  men,  commanded  by  Peter  Jones,  and  all  of 
them  armed  any  way  he  could,  including  Stanley's 
shotgun  and  my  Winchester  repeater,  old  man 
Fosby's  Enfield  and  several  rusty  Springfields 
pounced  on  here  and  there  as  against  the  law  to 
own  them. 

306 


A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 


They  were  tricked  out  very  smart  in  red  lava- 
lavas  and  white  drill  coats,  and  being  all  of  them  of 
the  obstreperous,  no-good  class  like  Peter,  they  were 
soon  the  terror  of  the  island.  Not  that  Mr.  Clemm 
didn't  keep  them  tight  in  hand,  but  when  it  came  to 
an  order  of  court  or  any  backwardness  in  taxes  he 
never  seemed  to  care  much  whom  they  plundered 
and  beat,  which  was  what  they  reveled  in  and 
thirsted  for  the  chance  of. 

Old  David  was  the  first  to  feel  the  weight  of 
authority,  and  I  believe  his  job  of  Native  Adviser 
was  merely  a  plan  to  keep  him  in  good  humor  till 
Mr.  Clemm  was  ready  to  squash  him,  which  Mr. 
Clemm  did  three  months  later  most  emphatic.  The 
Kanakas  were  forbidden  to  contribute  to  the  church, 
and  the  pastor's  private  laws  were  abolished,  and 
there  was  no  more  excommunicating  nor  jail  for 
church  members  nor  any  curfew  either.  The  natives 
went  wild  with  joy — all  except  a  few  old  soreheads 
that  are  always  to  be  found  in  every  community — = 
and  the  only  folks  who  were  now  forced  to  go  to 
church  were  the  Native  Constabulary,  who  lined  up 
regular  to  keep  tab  on  what  the  missionary  preached, 
and  arrest  him  for  sedition  in  case  he  let  his  tongue 
run  away  with  him. 

In  private,  however,  old  David  made  all  the 
trouble  he  dared,  and  tried  to  hearten  up  his  fol 
lowers  by  saying  there  would  be  a  day  of  reckoning 
for  Mr.  Clemm  when  the  missionary  vessel  arrived 

307 


on  her  annual  visit — at  which  the  Commissioner 
pretended  to  laugh  but  couldn't  hide  he  was  worried. 
Leastways  he  asked  a  raft  of  questions  about  the 
Evangel  of  Hope,  and  that  with  a  ruminating  look, 
and  about  the  character  of  the  people  in  charge 
which  were  Captain  Bins  and  the  Reverend  T.  J. 
Simpkins.  The  Evangel  of  Hope  never  stayed  any 
longer  than  to  land  a  few  stores  and  hymn  books 
for  the  pastor  and  take  off  what  copra  and  shell  he 
had  acquired  by  way  of  church  subscriptions.  At 
that  time  she  was  about  due  in  two  months,  and  we 
all  laughed  at  the  empty  larder  she  was  going  to  find, 
though,  as  I  said,  Mr.  Clemm  seemed  worried, 
remarking  it  was  hard  to  be  misrepresented  and 
slandered  when  his  only  thought  was  for  the  good 
of  the  island. 

He  was  certainly  upsetting  things  very  lively  and 
bossed  the  island  like  it  belonged  to  him.  If  the 
natives  could  play  all  they  wanted,  now  that  David 
was  deposed,  they  had  bumped  into  something  they 
had  never  known  before  and  that  was — work.  The 
Commissioner  couldn't  abide  laziness  in  a  Kanaka, 
and  went  at  them  terrific,  building  a  fine  road  around 
the  island  and  another  across  it,  with  bridges  and 
culverts,  where  he  used  to  ride  of  a  sundown  in  a 
buggy  he  had  bought  off  Captain  Sachs  of  the 
H.  L.  Tiernan,  with  men  tugging  him  instead  of 
horses,  and  the  Native  Constabulary  trotting  along 
in  the  rear  like  a  Royal  Progress. 

308 


A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 


He  built  a  fine-appearing  wharf,  too,  and  an  im 
proved  jail  with  a  cement  floor,  and  heaven  help 
anybody  who  threw  fish-guts  on  the  shore  or  didn't 
keep  his  land  as  clean  as  a  new  pin.  There  was  a 
public  well  made  in  the  middle  of  the  settlement, 
with  cement  steps  and  a  white-painted  fence  to  keep 
away  the  pigs,  and  the  natives,  though  they  hated  to 
work,  were  proud,  too,  of  what  they  had  done,  and 
I  doubt  if  they  had  ever  been  so  prosperous  or  freer 
of  sickness.  I  know  Stanley  and  I  doubled  our 
trade,  in  spite  of  having  to  take  out  heavy  licenses, 
which  meant  that  not  only  we,  but  everybody  else 
were  that  much  -better  off.  Petty  thieving  dis 
appeared  entirely,  and  likewise  all  violence,  and  one 
of  the  Commissioner's  best  reforms  was  a  land  court 
where  titles  were  established  and  boundaries  marked 
out,  that  stopping  the  only  thing  the  Kanakas  ever 
seriously  quarreled  about.  Six  months  of  the  Com 
missioner  had  revolutionized  the  island,  and  few 
would  have  cared  to  go  back  to  the  old  loose  days 
when  your  only  Supreme  Court  was  the  rifle  hanging 
on  your  wall. 

Well,  it  grew  nearer  and  nearer  for  the  Evangel 
of  Hope  to  arrive,  and  Mr.  Clemm  he  began  to  do  a 
most  extraordinary  thing,  which  was  nothing  else 
than  a  large  cemetery!  Yes,  sir,  that's  what  Mr. 
Clemm  did,  tearing  down  five  or  six  houses  for  the 
purpose  on  the  lagoon  side,  nigh  the  wharf,  and 
planting  rows  on  rows  of  white  headstones,  with 

309 


WILD  JUSTICE 


low  mounds  at  each,  representing  graves.  There 
must  have  been  a  couple  of  hundred  of  them,  and 
often  it  was  a  whitewashed  cross  instead  of  a  stone  or 
maybe  a  pointed  stake — the  whole  giving  the  impres 
sion  of  a  calamity  that  had  suddenly  overtaken  us. 

It  was  no  good  asking  him  what  it  was  for;  the 
Commissioner  wasn't  a  man  to  be  questioned  when 
he  didn't  want  to  be;  all  he  said  was  that  Stanley 
and  I  were  to  stick  inside  our  stores  when  the  ship 
came  and  not  budge  an  inch  till  we  were  told.  With 
us  orders  were  orders,  but  the  Kanakas  were  panicky 
with  terror,  and  that  cemetery  with  nobody  in  it 
seemed  to  them  like  tempting  Providence.  It  took 
all  of  Mr.  Clemm's  authority  to  keep  them  quiet, 
and  it  got  out  that  the  Commissioner  was  expecting 
the  end  of  the  world,  and  the  graves  were  for  those 
that  wouldn't  go  to  heaven !  Kanakas  are  like  that, 
you  know — spreading  the  silliest  rumors  and  making 
a  lot  out  of  nothing — though  in  this  case  they 
couldn't  be  blamed  for  being  considerable  scared. 
But  Mr.  Clemm  knew  how  to  turn  everything  to 
account,  and  on  the  principle  that  the  church  was 
the  safest  place  to  be  found  in  on  the  Day  of  Judg 
ment,  ordered  that  everybody  should  go  there  the 
moment  he  fired  three  pistol  shots  from  his  veranda. 
I  noticed,  however,  that  the  Native  Constabulary 
seemed  to  be  taking  the  end  of  the  world  mighty 
calm,  which  looked  like  they  had  been  tipped  off 
ahead  for  something  quite  different. 

310 


A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 


But  the  meaning  of  the  cemetery  appeared  later 
when  one  morning,  along  of  ten  or  so,  my  little  boy 
came  running  in  to  say  the  Evangel  was  sighted  in 
the  pass.  Of  course,  I  stuck  indoors,  mindful  of 
instructions,  though  that  didn't  prevent  me  from 
looking  out  of  my  upper  window  and  taking  in  all 
that  happened.  The  first  was  a  tremendous  yellow 
flag  raised  on  the  Commissioner's  staff,  and  the  sec 
ond  were  those  three  pistol  shots  which  were  to 
announce  the  Day  of  Judgment.  Then  you  ought 
to  have  seen  the  settlement  scoot!  There  was  a 
rush  for  the  church  like  the  animals  at  the  Ark, 
though  old  David,  the  pastor,  wasn't  any  Noah. 
Him  and  the  deacons  were  led  down  to  the  jail  and 
locked  in,  and  then  Peter  Jones  and  his  constables 
divided  into  two  parties — three  of  them  returning 
to  the  church,  while  the  other  three  with  Peter 
got  a  boat  ready,  with  another  yellow  flag  in  the 
stern. 

By  this  time  the  missionary  vessel  was  well  up 
under  a  spanking  spread  of  canvas,  with  the  water 
hissing  at  her  bows  and  parting  white  and  sparkling 
in  a  way  dandy  to  watch.  You  could  almost  feel 
her  shiver  at  the  sight  of  Peter's  yellow  flag  rowing 
towards  her,  and  through  the  glass  I  noticed  a  big 
commotion  aboard,  with  half  a  dozen  racing  up  the 
rigging  and  making  signs  at  those  below.  It  was 
plainer  than  words  that  they  had  seen  the  cemetery 
and  were  struck  of  a  heap,  which  was  no  wonder 

3" 


WILD  JUSTICE 


considering  how  new  and  calamitous  it  looked,  with 
them  rows  on  rows  of  neat  little  headstones  and 
nicely  mounded  graves. 

She  never  even  dropped  her  anchor  nor  lowered 
her  gangway,  but  hove  to,  short;  and  when  Peter 
came  up  he  was  made  to  lay  on  his  oars  and  keep 
his  distance,  yelling  what  he  had  to  say  with  both 
hands  at  his  face  while  the  captain  he  yelled  back 
with  a  speaking  trumpet.  Of  course  I  didn't  hear 
a  word,  but  it  was  easy  enough  to  put  two  and  two 
together,  remembering  the  sea  meaning  of  a  yellow 
flag  which  is  seldom  else  than  smallpox.  Yes,  that 
was  why  we  had  all  took  and  died  in  the  new  ceme 
tery,  and  that  was  why  the  settlement  looked  so  life 
less  and  deserted !  After  no  end  of  a  powwow  they 
hoisted  out  a  boat,  and  when  it  was  loaded  to  the 
gunwales  with  stores  and  cases,  it  was  cast  off  for 
Peter  to  pick  up  and  take  in  tow.  It  held  half  a 
ton  of  medical  comforts,  and  I  often  had  the  pleasure 
of  drinking  some  of  them  afterwards  on  Mr. 
Clemm's  veranda,  where  we  all  agreed  it  was  prime 
stuff  and  exactly  suited  to  our  complaints. 

What  old  David  thought  of  it  all  through  the 
bars  of  the  coral  jail  can  only  be  left  to  the  imagina 
tion.  He  had  been  banking  on  the  Evangel  to  turn 
the  scales  against  Mr.  Clemm,  and  there  she  was 
heading  out  of  the  lagoon  again,  not  to  return  for 
another  year!  We  celebrated  it  that  night  with 
medical  comforts  unstinted,  while  the  natives  they 
312 


A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 


celebrated,  too,  thankful  to  find  the  world  still  here 
and  the  Day  of  Judgment  postponed.  Old  David 
wrote  a  red-hot  protest,  countersigned  by  the  dea 
cons,  and  not  knowing  what  else  to  do  with  it, 
sealed  it  in  a  demijohn  and  threw  it  into  the  sea, 
where  like  enough  it  still  is,  bobbing  around  undeliv 
ered  to  the  missionary  society  and  still  waiting  for 
the  angels  to  take  charge  of  it. 

Mr.  Clemm's  next  move  was  to  start  building  a 
small  cutter  of  twenty  tons,  which  he  named  the 
Felicity  and  charged  to  the  government  as  an  official 
yacht.  Old  man  Fosby  had  been  a  shipwright  in 
years  gone  by,  and  under  his  direction  the  Kanakas 
made  a  mighty  fine  job  of  the  little  vessel,  which  was 
fitted  up  regardless  and  proved  to  be  remarkably  fast 
and  weatherly.  She  was  the  apple  of  the  Commis 
sioner's  eye,  with  a  crew  of  four  in  uniform,  and  a 
half-caste  Chinaman  named  Henry  for  captain, 
whom  he  had  persuaded  to  desert  from  a  German 
schooner  where  he  was  mate.  Mr.  Clemm  was  so 
fond  of  taking  short  cruises  in  the  Felicity  that  we 
never  gave  his  coming  and  going  much  thought, 
till  one  day  he  went  off  and  never  came  back !  Yes, 
sir,  clean  disappeared  over  the  horizon  and  was  never 
seen  again  from  that  day  to  this,  nor  the  party  with 
him  which  included  several  very  fine-looking  young 
women ! 

The  natives  took  it  like  the  loss  of  a  father,  which 
indeed  it  was,  Mr.  Clemm  being  a  grand  man  and 

313 


WILD  JUSTICE 


universally  beloved — kindly  yet  strict,  and  always 
the  soul  of  justice.  After  giving  him  up  altogether 
for  lost,  we  put  seals  on  his  private  effects,  and 
Peter  Jones  took  charge  of  the  government,  advised 
by  Stanley  and  me.  It  showed  the  splendid  influence 
Mr.  Clemm  had  had  that  Peter  had  become  quite  a 
model,  and  instead  of  breaking  loose  was  all  on  the 
side  of  law  and  order.  Our  idea  was  to  hold  the 
fort  until  a  new  Commissioner  might  be  sent,  and 
the  only  slight  change  we  made  was  to  double  our 
salaries.  The  natives  had  grown  so  used  to  civilized 
government  that  they  made  no  trouble,  and  we  three 
might  have  been  governing  the  island  yet  if  a  man- 
of-war  hadn't  suddenly  popped  in. 

It  was  the  Ringarooma,  the  self -same  ship  that 
had  landed  Mr.  Clemm  some  eighteen  months  be 
fore,  and  Stanley  and  I  were  the  first  to  board  her, 
meeting  the  captain  at  the  break  of  the  poop,  just 
when  he  had  come  down  from  the  bridge. 

"I  have  the  honor  to  report  the  disappearance  of 
Deputy  Commissioner  James  Howard  Fitzroy 
Clemm,"  said  I.  "He  sailed  from  here  on  March 
sixteenth  in  the  government  yacht  Felicity,  and  has 
never  been  seen  nor  heard  from  since." 

The  captain,  who  was  a  sharp,  curt  man,  looked 
puzzled. 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,"  he  said, 
as  abrupt  as  a  thunderbolt. 

"Why,  sir,  you  landed  him  yourself,"  said  Stan- 


'A  SON  OF  EMPIRE 


ley,  "and  the  same  day  he  took  possession  of  the 
island  and  hoisted  the  British  flag." 

"Annexed  us,"  said  I. 

The  captain  frowned  very  angry,  like  if  we  were 
making  sport  of  him  we  should  fast  rue  it. 

"I  never  landed  anybody  here  but  a  fellow  named 
Baker,"  he  said.  "I  deported  him  from  the  Ellice 
Islands  for  sedition,  bigamy,  selling  gin  to  the  na 
tives,  suspected  arson  and  receiving  stolen  goods. 
If  he  called  himself  a  Deputy  Commissioner  he  was 
a  rank  impostor,  and  had  no  more  authority  to  an 
nex  this  island  than  you  have." 

Months  afterwards  we  learned  that  instead  of 
being  lost  in  the  Felicity  like  we  all  had  thought, 
Clemm  had  turned  pirate  in  a  small  way  down  to  the 
Westward  till  the  natives  took  and  ate  him  at  Gua- 
dalcanaar. 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

Behind  Apia,  on  the  edge  of  the  Taufusi  swamp, 
was  a  small  collection  of  huts,  jumbled  together  in 
squalor  and  dirt,  with  pigs  dozing  in  the  ooze  and 
slatternly  women  beating  out  siapo  in  the  shade.  It 
was  a  dunghill  of  out-islanders,  Nieues,  Uveans, 
Tongans,  Tapatueans,  banded  together  in  a  common 
poverty;  landless  people  of  other  archipelagoes,  de 
spised  of  the  Samoans,  and  paying  tribute  to  the 
lord  of  the  soil — a  few  men  in  war ;  a  grudging  hog 
in  times  of  peace. 

Here  lived  O'olo,  a  boy  of  twenty,  whose  chief- 
like  face,  and  fine  manly  bearing  marked  him  as  one 
apart  in  that  nest  of  outcasts.  He  was  of  Tongan 
blood,  though  all  he  knew  of  his  parents  was  that 
they  had  escaped  from  Nukualofa  at  the  time  of  the 
Persecution,  and  had  died  in  Samoa  when  he  was  a 
child.  Old  Siosi,  who  had  adopted  him,  could  tell 
him  no  more  than  that ;  not  that  O'olo  asked  many 
questions,  being  content  to  drift  on  the  ocean  of  life, 
and  careless  of  anything  save  what  belonged  to  the 
day.  He  weeded  taro,  occasionally  worked  for  thir 
ty-five  cents  a  day  at  the  unloading  of  ships;  stole 
bread-fruit  and  bananas  up  the  mountain,  and  slept 
peacefully  at  night  on  the  stones  of  Siosi's  floor. 

316 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

If  ever  he  envied  the  Samoans,  the  mood  was 
brief,  and  seldom  darkened  his  spirits  for  long.  To 
him  the  Samoans  were  a  race  above,  with  splendid 
houses,  and  spacious  lands,  and  a  haughty  contempt 
for  such  an  eatbush  at  O'olo,  the  Tongan ;  and  O'olo 
looked  up  at  them  mightily,  and  respected  them  as 
a  dog  does  a  man,  though  sometimes  he  said:  "I 
wish  God  had  made  me  a  Samoan";  and  then  the 
swamp  appeared  very  dismal  to  O'olo,  and  the  huts 
mean  and  noisome,  and  the  mallets  seemed  to  be 
pounding  on  his  heart  instead  of  the  suddy  bark. 

Now  it  happened  that  a  new  clergyman  came  to 
the  coral  church  on  the  other  side  of  the  coconut 
grove,  and  what  was  more  important  to  O'olo 
brought  with  him  a  lovely  daughter.  O'olo  did  not 
know  how  important  it  was  till  he  first  met  Eva- 
nitalina  in  the  path,  and  was  so  suddenly  stricken 
with  her  beauty  that  he  had  hardly  the  sense  to  make 
way  for  her  to  pass.  Slim  and  graceful,  with  her 
glossy  hair  gathered  at  the  nape  with  a  ribbon,  and 
her  bright  lavalava  kilted  to  the  knee,  she  gave  O'olo 
a  glance  as  sparkling  as  moonlight  on  a  pool,  all  her 
young  womanhood  alive  to  his  confusion,  and  quick 
to  divine  its  cause.  Though  her  eyes  had  scarcely 
dwelt  on  him  an  instant,  she  had  seen  enough  for 
her  heart  to  say:  Panga!  What  a  handsome  youth" ; 
and  was  filled  with  a  strange  elation  in  which  there 
was  a  dart  of  pain. 

On  her  return  O'olo  was  still  where  she  had  left 

317 


I 


WILD  JUSTICE 


him,  though  in  his  hand  was  a  crimson  ante  blossom 
that  had  not  been  there  before ;  and  when  she  drew 
close  he  held  it  out,  saying:  "Oh,  lady,  here  is  a 
little  worthless  gift!"  She  took  it  smiling,  and  put 
it  behind  her  ear,  and  had  it  been  a  pig  or  a  fine  mat 
no  sweeter  could  have  been  her  words  of  gratitude, 
for  Evanitalina  had  been  well  brought  up,  and 
courtesy  was  as  natural  to  her  as  breathing. 

"I  am  named  O'olo,"  said  the  young  man,  "and  if 
you  like  ante  blossoms,  every  day  shall  I  bring  you 
some." 

"I  am  Evanitalina,  the  daughter  of  Samuelu,  the 
clergyman,"  she  returned,  "and  I  shall  be  glad  of 
the  blossoms,  for  as  yet  thy  father  has  tabooed  no 
lands  for  our  garden." 

Then  O'olo  realized  she  had  mistaken  him  for  the 
son  of  Amatuanai,  the  chief,  and  while  flattered  he 
was  also  much  cast  down, 

"I  am  only  a  Tongan,"  he  said,  deprecatorily, 
shame  halting  his  tongue,  "and  I  live  yonder  where 
you  see  that  nameless-animal  rooting  in  the  slough 
— though  to  God  a  Tongan  is  every  bit  as  good  as  a 
Samoan,  and  the  only  chiefs  are  those  who  are 
strong  in  faith." 

Evanitalina  hastened  to  agree  with  him,  though 
she  was  very  disappointed  just  the  same,  for  he  was 
so  handsome,  and  had  such  pleasant  manners,  and 
an  air  so  noble  and  winning  that  she  had  never 
doubted  he  was  of  rank.  She  herself  was  of  the 

318 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

exalted  I'i  family,  of  Safotulafai,  and  her  grand 
father  was  Tu'imaleali'ifano,  and  her  great-grand 
father  had  been  Tu-ia'ana.  Yet  as  she  went  on,  the 
memory  of  O'olo  stayed  with  her  like  the  scent  of 
f rangipani,  and  for  all  he  was  a  Tongan  and  with 
out  land  or  position,  she  felt  a  great  tenderness  for 
him;  and  taking  the  crimson  flower  she  pressed  it 
to  her  bosom,  trembling  with  joy  as  she  did  so,  and 
saying  to  herself :  "I  love  thee,  I  love  thee,  I  love 
thee!" 

The  next  day  they  met  again,  and  the  next  after 
that,  and  soon  the  village  gossips  were  all  of  a  chat 
ter,  though  not  a  word  of  it  reached  the  Reverend 
Samuelu  nor  his  wife.  But  if  Evanitalina  dared  not 
tell  her  parents  of  O'olo,  in  her  conduct  at  least  she 
was  as  good  as  gold,  and  every  time  she  held  a  tryst 
with  her  sweetheart,  she  took  her  little  brother  with 
her  as  convention  demands;  and  Polo,  bribed  with 
sugar  cane,  sucked  and  chewed  at  the  pieces  O'olo 
peeled  for  him,  his  shaven  head  untroubled  by  the 
woes  of  his  elders.  They,  alas,  were  very  wretched, 
for  O'olo  had  saved  up  two  dollars,  which  was 
what  to  get  married  costs,  and  was  urging  Evanita 
lina  to  run  away  with  him  to  Atua ;  while  she,  with 
superior  wisdom  called  his  proposal  that  of  a  de 
lirious  person,  for  how  were  they  to  live  afterwards 
except  slavelike  on  the  bounty  of  others?  When 
he  answered  they  could  return  to  Siosi  and  the 
swamp,  her  lip  curled  scornfully,  and  she  reminded 

3*9 


WILD  JUSTICE 


him  she  was  of  the  renowned  I'i  family,  accustomed 
to  dignity  and  ease,  to  whom  the  settlement  of  out- 
islanders  was  hardly  better  than  a  wallow  of  name 
less-animals. 

Now,  however  true  this  might  be,  it  was  hurtful 
to  O'olo's  pride,  and  he  was  often  goaded  into  sharp 
retorts  which  invited  others  even  sharper,  so  that 
their  passion  might  be  compared  to  a  mountain,  up 
one  side  of  which  they  climbed  in  joy  and  gladness, 
to  descend  on  the  other  in  alienation.  Not  that 
they  loved  each  other  any  less ;  that,  indeed,  was  the 
most  cruel  part  of  it;  and  when  at  last  they  sepa 
rated  it  was  with  breaking  hearts. 

The  days  that  followed  were  heavy  with  sorrow, 
for  each  strove  ardently  to  pain  the  other,  and  with 
every  stab  thus  inflicted  there  were  two  wounds, 
one  in  the  giver  and  one  in  the  stricken  person. 
O'olo  spent  his  two  dollars  in  riot  and  debauchery, 
and  when  released  from  prison  fell  into  greater 
evil,  so  that  his  communion-ticket  was  withdrawn, 
and  those  who  missed  taro,  or  chickens,  or  run-wild 
daughters  used  to  say  darkeningly:  "Lo,  it  is  that 
Taufusi  Tongan,"  and  sought  to  waylay  him  with 
an  ax. 

Evanitalina,  in  her  turn,  encouraged  the  wooing 
of  Viliamu,  a  highly-connected  young  man,  whose 
father  was  a  Member  of  Parliament,  and  who 
earned  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day  in  the  explosion- 
water  manufactory.  In  this  profession  he  was  won- 
320 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

drous  skilful,  and  could  be  seen  daily  under  a  shed, 
directing  the  apparatus,  and  giving  orders  to  his 
helpers  like  a  white  man.  A  bottle  of  explosion- 
water  held  no  more  than  half  a  coconut,  yet  it  was 
sold  for  ten  cents,  and  it  was  a  perplexity  that  any 
body  liked  it,  for  it  shot  up  your  nose  like  the  rush 
of  a  bat,  and  made  you  choke  and  sneeze,  as 
Evanitalina  discovered  when  once  Viliamu  brought 
her  some.  But  it  was  a  fine  thing  to  be  able  to 
make  it,  and  earn  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day,  and 
dress  magnificently,  and  give  costly  presents;  and 
though  Evanitalina  did  not  love  Viliamu  she  ad 
mired  him,  and  accepted  his  gifts,  and  thought 
wickedly  how  it  must  afflict  O'olo  to  see  her  and 
Viliamu  seated  on  the  same  mat,  or  with  their  heads 
side  by  side  on  the  same  bamboo  pillow. 

Nor  was  Viliamu  her  only  suitor,  for  there  was 
also  Carl,  the  German  half-caste,  who  was  captain 
of  a  schooner,  and  wore  trousers  and  a  black  sash, 
and  owned  valuable  property  in  Savalolo ;  Carl  who 
called  for  her  almost  every  Sunday  in  a  buggy,  and 
took  her  driving  like  a  white  lady,  to  Vailele  or 
Vaitele  or  Utumapu ;  Carl  of  the  ringing  laugh,  and 
jolly,  smiling  face,  and  tattooed  girl-fish  on  his  arm, 
who  could  sing,  and  do  tricks  with  cards,  and  invent 
the  funniest  forfeits  when  they  all  played  games, 
and  yet,  who  at  leave-time  never  failed  to  say  with 
seriousness :  "Oh,  my  pigeon,  am  I  to  love  uselessly 
forever  ?" 

321 


WILD  JUSTICE 


Again  and  again  was  Evanitalina  drawn  to  take 
Viliamu,  and  then  to  take  Captain  Carl,  for  Samuelu 
was  always  urging  that  a  final  decision  be  come  to, 
knowing  the  folly  of  maids,  and  the  lack  and  fewness 
of  worthy  men  for  husbands.  But  as  she  was  on  the 
brink,  like  a  diver  pausing  before  the  plunge,  her 
eyes  would  alight  on  O'olo,  smolderingly  regarding 
her  from  afar,  and  then  her  whole  strength  would 
turn  to  water,  and  not  for  anything  would  she 
have  married  Carl,  though  all  Savalolo  belonged  to 
him,  and  all  the  ships  of  the  sea ;  nor  likewise  would 
she  have  married  Viliamu,  even  had  he  owned  the 
explosion-water  manufactory  and  been  himself  a 
Member  of  Parliament,  for  of  her  heart  there  was 
but  one  master,  and  that  was  the  Tongan. 

But,  alas,  there  was  no  coming  together,  for 
O'olo  in  his  despair  had  put  himself  beyond  all  in 
tercourse  with  those  of  honor,  becoming  a  terror 
and  a  scourge,  and  inhabiting  the  jail  more  frequently 
than  Siosi's  roof-tree;  and  nightly,  when  he  was 
free,  he  caroused  with  low  companions,  drinking 
gin,  and  cooking  stolen  pigs,  and  eating  stolen  taro, 
and  saying  in  his  infamy :  "Why  should  I  work  for 
thirty-five  cents  a  day  when  all  the  Tuamasanga  is 
mine?" 

Yet  the  rich  food  had  no  flavor  in  his  mouth,  and 

though  the  gin  maddened  his  spirit,  it  could  not 

drown  his  wretchedness,  for  deep  within  him,  like 

a  maggot  in  a  bread-fruit,  was  the  torment  of  love. 

322 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

Sometimes  in  prison  he  would  lower  his  head  like  a 
cow,  and  run  at  the  wall,  exclaiming :  "I  will  die,  I 
will  die !"  And  then  he  would  fall,  with  his  beauti 
ful  hair  all  matted  with  blood,  and  his  beautiful  body 
next  to  lifeless,  though  with  his  purpose  unattained, 
owing  to  the  thickness  of  his  skull.  Surely  no 
person  in  hell  was  ever  more  unhappy  than  O'olo, 
and  it  is  with  grief  one  tells  of  him,  for  he  was  like 
a  child,  who,  on  being  refused  a  mango  throws  away 
his  banana  in  wilfulness — and  with  him,  his  banana 
was  right  conduct,  and  the  respect  of  others,  and  the 
laws  of  God,  leaving  him  nothing  save  an  aching  spirit. 
Then  the  war  came,  with  the  Tuamasanga  in  an 
uproar  from  end  to  end,  every  young  man  being 
called  to  arms,  and  troops  pouring  in  from  Tutuila 
and  the  westward  to  join  in  the  onslaught  against 
Mataafa.  The  Taufusi  people,  as  foreigners,  were 
not  liable  to  the  levy  except  for  two  striplings  by 
way  of  rent,  both  of  whom  were  subscribed  with 
unwillingness,  though  neither  was  O'olo.  This 
Evanitalina  learned  with  joy,  for  death  was  in  the 
air  and  bloody  fighting  nigh  at  hand,  and  her  tender 
ness  for  O'olo,  lying  secret  in  her  bosom,  like  a 
red-hot  coal,  was  fanned  to  the  flame  of  agony. 
But  no,  he  was  fortunately  in  the  lock-up,  and  it 
was  reported  he  had  said  scornfully  of  the  war:  "A 
Tongan  gentleman  has  no  concern  with  the  squabbles 
of  dogs";  which,  if  insulting,  was  not  without  the 
balm  of  reassurance  to  Evanitalina,  greatly  dreading. 

323 


WILD  JUSTICE 


One  drowsy  afternoon,  however,  as  she  was  sew 
ing  under  the  eaves,  alone  except  for  Polo,  who  had 
made  a  Mataafa  soldier  of  the  dog,  and  was  pre 
tending,  victoriously,  to  cut  the  animal's  head  off 
with  a  piece  of  wood,  as  so  soon,  in  reality,  would  be 
happening  to  living  men,  pierced  with  wounds,  and 
lying  in  their  blood — one  hot  afternoon  while  noth 
ing  stirred  except  the  flies,  and  even  these  buzzed 
sleepily,  Evanitalina  of  a  sudden  was  roused  by  the 
sound  of  steps,  and  looking  up,  beheld  a  warrior 
advancing  towards  the  house.  His  face  was 
blackened  with  charcoal,  as  is  the  custom,  and  about 
his  hair  was  the  scarlet  scarf  of  the  Government, 
and  against  his  skin  glistened  a  belt  of  cartridges; 
and  his  walk  was  fearless  and  proud,  as  befitted  so 
handsome  a  man  and  one  of  such  noble  mien. 

"Talofa"  he  said,  and  then  Evanitalina  gave  a 
cry,  for  it  was  O'olo;  and  with  that  cry,  every 
thought  vanished  except  her  love,  which  rose  tumul- 
tuously  within  her  like  a  wave  bursting  between 
rocks,  and  foaming  white  over  them,  so  that  she 
could  answer  not  a  word  to  his  greeting,  but  stared 
uselessly  at  him  like  a  dead  person. 

"I  am  going  to  the  war,"  explained  O'olo,  bending 
down  on  his  beautiful  legs,  and  bringing  his  face  so 
close  to  hers  that  his  breath  was  on  her  cheek. 
"Doubtless  I  shall  die,  for  with  many  so  brave  it 
will  be  difficult  for  me  to  excel  them,  though  that  is 
my  intention  at  whatever  cost." 

324 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

"But  how  is  it  you  are  not  in  prison?"  inquired 
Evanitalina,  recovering  her  voice,  and  speaking  in  a 
tremble.  "The  judge  allotted  you  two  months,  and 
lo,  here  you  are  with  only  sixteen  days  of  it 
expended." 

At  this  O'olo's  heart  warmed,  for  it  showed  him 
how  assiduous  had  been  Evanitalina's  counting  of 
his  imprisonment,  for  it  was  exactly  sixteen  days, 
even  as  she  said,  she  tallying  it  every  morning  with 
a  little  stone ;  and  it  spoke  to  him  better  than  words 
of  the  endurance  and  strength  of  her  love,  which, 
like  his  own,  was  as  fathomless  as  the  sea. 

"I  was  made  free  on  this  condition,"  he  said, 
touching  his  rifle,  "and  though  to  me  the  Govern 
ment  is  nothing,  nor  the  King,  nor  the  quarrel  more 
than  that  of  gulls  on  a  rock,  or  the  squeals  of  name 
less-animals  over  carrion,  yet  I  consented  for  thy 
sake,  Evanitalina." 

"My  sake?"  she  exclaimed,  astonished.  "Were  it 
to  please  me  I  would  implore  thee  to  remain  behind, 
though  I  thought  my  name  had  long  ceased  to  be 
anything  to  thee,  and  that  I  was  utterly  forgotten 
and  cast  aside." 

"So  did  I  try  to  make  it,"  he  said,  "for  no  shark 
could  have  been  rnore  cruel  than  thee  to  me,  nor 
any  bat  more  blind  to  worth,  and  because  I  had 
neither  lands  nor  family  thou  drovest  me  forth  with 
contempt." 

"It   was   the   insufficiency   of   the   two   dollars, 

325 


WILD  JUSTICE 


O'olo,"  she  protested,  "and  not  that  of  my  love, 
which  was  unbounded ;  and  if  I  merited  punishment 
for  what  seemed  right  to  me,  have  I  not  received  it, 
and  atoned  a  thousand  times  over  for  my  fault? 
Did  Viliamu  gain  me  for  all  his  wealth  and  position, 
or  did  Carl  the  half-caste  take  me  to  wife?  I  wag 
truer  to  thee  than  ever  thou  wast  to  me,  and  nightly 
I  wept,  and  held  the  memory  of  thee  in  my  arms, 
like  a  mother  whose  babe  is  dead.  And  this  I  will 
do,  if  thou  wilt  return  to  jail,  and  break  the 
covenant  of  thy  freedom — I  will  marry  thee,  and 
go  live  with  thee  in  Siosi's  house,  and  forfeit  rank 
and  honor  and  the  regard  of  all,  reckoning  them  as 
naught  in  the  comparison  of  thy  love." 

At  this  O'olo  could  hardly  keep  back  his  tears, 
so  greatly  was  he  overcome;  and  his  hand  met 
Evanitalina's  and  clasped  on  hers,  and  his  chest 
shook  like  one  grief-stricken  at  the  death  of  a  near 
relation.  He  had  learned  many  things  since  he  had 
become  bad,  and  knew  better  than  before  the  gulf 
that  lay  between  an  eat-bush  like  himself  and  a 
member  of  the  renowned  I'i  family.  Our  Lord  in 
the  desert  was  not  more  tempted  by  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world  that  he  at  that  moment  by  Evanitalina, 
who  was  offering  herself  in  all  her  young  beauty  for 
his  delight. 

But  resolutely  he  put  the  devil  behind  him,  say 
ing:  "I  will  not  have  thee  stoop  to  me,  so  that 
persons  shall  mock  at  thy  choice,  and  the  parable  of 

326 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

the  pearl  and  the  nameless-animal  shall  be  repeated 
in  the  Taufusi  swamp.  No!  I  shall  make  of  this 
war  a  ladder,  and  reach  glory  or  die  and  to  that  I 
am  determined  as  never  was  man  before.  If  I  come 
back  it  shall  be  as  one  famous  for  prowess,  bearing 
heads  that  I  have  taken,  and  with  chiefs  eager  to 
adopt  me.  Thus  shall  I  return,  an  eat-bush  no 
longer  nor  despised,  but  a  David  who  has  slain  his 
Goliath,  with  the  multitude  applauding,  and  the 
greatest  of  the  Tuamasanga  vying  to  give  me  the 
title  of  their  son.  Or,  if  not  that,  then  shall  I  claim 
the  land  God  withholds  not  from  every  man,  nay, 
not  from  the  poorest  or  the  lowest,  and  the  name  of 
that  land  is  the  grave." 

At  this  Evanitalina  sobbed,  and  clung  pitifully  to 
O'olo,  and  pressed  his  head  to  her  bosom,  unmindful 
of  decorum,  and  so  consumed  by  misery  she  was 
like  a  person  in  a  fit.  O'olo,  too,  was  suffocated 
with  sadness,  for  it  seemed  a  dreadful  thing  to 
die  and  be  cast  blood-stained  into  a  pit,  he  that  was 
so  handsome,  and  in  the  flood  of  his  youth,  with 
perhaps  his  dissevered  head  tossing  in  the  air  amid 
shouts  and  triumph.  Indeed,  so  lost  was  he  in 
wretchedness  that  he  was  taken  unawares  by 
Samuelu  on  his  way  inland  from  a  deacons'  meeting, 
who,  convulsed,  seized  a  coconut  branch,  and  ran 
at  him,  crying :  "Let  there  be  a  going,  thou  worthless 
one!  Fly,  thou  of  the  Belial  family,  and  be  quick 
with  it,  else  I  shall  whip  thee  hence  like  a  cur!" 

327 


WILD  JUSTICE 


And  with  that  he  whipped  and  whipped  at  O'olo, 
departing,  for  the  Tongan  was  too  mannerly  to 
strike  a  clergyman,  and  one  so  greatly  his  senior, 
though  his  spirit  smarted  worse  than  his  body  at 
the  insult.  Thus  he  passed  from  the  sight  of  Eva- 
nitalina,  like  a  horse  being  chased  from  a  bread-fruit 
plantation,  with  no  time  to  look  back,  or  wave  with 
his  hand  a  last  greeting. 

He  marched  the  same  day  with  the  Vaiala  con 
tingent  under  the  high-chief  Asi,  and  that  night, 
shivering  on  the  wet  ground,  O'olo  had  his  first 
taste  of  war.  As  to  it  he  had  many  misconceptions, 
not  reckoning  on  the  severity  of  the  rule,  or  the 
trifling  importance  attached  to  a  Tongan,  however 
lionlike  his  heart.  He  saw  that  he  was  one  of  many, 
a  grain  in  a  heap  of  sand,  who  might  at  an 
order  be  kept  in  the  rear,  and  never  hear  the  whistle 
of  a  bullet,  or  earn  the  chance  of  distinction.  In  the 
army,  too,  little  thought  was  taken  of  food,  so  that 
one  banana  was  given  for  breakfast,  and  for  dinner 
a  coconut,  which  O'olo  found  hard,  he  having 
always  been  a  hearty  eater,  and  accustomed  to 
palusami  and  luxuries.  The  monotony  also,  was 
unendurable,  especially  when  the  tobacco  was  gone, 
and  one  was  forbidden  to  move,  being  condemned  to 
sit  hungry  and  distressed  for  a  whole  day  at  a  time, 
sucking  a  white  stone  by  way  of  alleviation.  To 
O'olo  a  white  stone  was  very  insufficient  for  nourish 
ment,  and  so  he  tried  grass  and  weeds  like 

328 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

Nebuchadnezzar,  to  the  undoing  of  his  stomach, 
which  dissatisfied,  was  afflicted  with  cramps,  so  that 
he  rolled  and  rolled  in  pain,  and  lamented  loudly,  till 
Asi  cried  out:  "Make  that  Tongan  to  cease  from 
bellowing,  or  else  the  enemy  will  surely  discover  us  1" 

But  let  it  not  be  said  that  O'olo  was  womanish  or 
afraid,  for  on  the  contrary  he  thirsted  for  battle 
like  King  David,  whom  he  took  for  his  example,  and 
his  repining  was  due  to  the  backwardness  of  his 
rulers  and  the  tightness  of  their  leash.  When  at 
last  the  advance  was  ordered  on  the  Mataafa  strong 
hold  he  was  noticeable  for  his  leaps  of  joy;  and 
while  others  wore  an  anxious  appearance  and  showed 
uncertainty  in  their  walk,  O'olo  sang  with  exulta 
tion,  and  stepped  out  as  though  on  his  way  to  a 
feast. 

The  stronghold  was  of  stone,  and  had  been  used 
by  the  Germans  for  the  retaining  of  cattle,  and  stood 
solitary  on  a  hill  with  the  land  falling  away  on 
every  side.  As  it  flashed  and  sparkled  with  the 
Mataafa  fire  it  was  seen  by  O'olo  to  be  a  place  not 
easy  to  capture,  with  much  loss  to  be  experienced 
before  ax  could  cross  ax,  and  knife  meet  knife,  in 
the  final  charge ;  so  that,  with  wisdom,  he  shot  little 
in  order  not  to  tire  himself,  and  hugged  the  ground 
in  a  manner  suggestive  of  terror  rather  than  bold 
ness,  for  to  be  killed  here  was  useless  and  foreign  to 
his  purpose,  fame  resting  in  the  fort,  and  there  the 
heads  to  be  taken.  Thus,  when  they  sprang  up  at 

329 


WILD  JUSTICE 


the  call,  he  was  unfatigued,  with  cartridges  still 
in  his  gun,  and  wind  in  his  body,  and  up  the  hill  he 
raced  with  swiftness,  so  that  scarcely  two  of  his 
companions  matched  pace  with  him,  and  those  who 
had  cried:  "Coward,  coward!"  panted  in  his  rear, 
and  perceived  it  was  a  hero  they  had  mocked. 

Nor  at  the  gateway  was  there  any  slackening  of 
Tongan  valor,  and  over  it  O'olo  scrambled,  unde 
terred  by  rifle  and  ax,  so  that  it  was  a  miracle  that 
he  stayed  alive  as  he  dropped  within,  even  as  Daniel 
into  the  lion's  den,  beset  by  twenty,  and  he  alone. 
It  was  like  a  tempest  and  he  in  the  center,  and  for 
lightning  was  the  flame  of  the  guns,  and  for  thunder 
the  roar  of  their  explosion,  and  for  the  raging  sea 
the  crash  of  blows,  given  and  taken,  and  the  sobbing 
breath  of  men.  Here  the  Tongan  rock  withheld 
the  enemy,  while  the  army  of  the  Government  rolled 
over  the  wall  in  a  resistless  torrent,  and  with  tumult 
and  fury  beset  the  Mataafas  until  they  fled.  Now, 
O'olo,  with  coolness,  had  already  marked  an  old 
chief  of  towering  stature  and  magnificent  appear 
ance  as  the  one  whose  head  he  would  take,  unwishf ul 
of  a  boy's,  or  that  of  a  person  of  no  importance,  and 
him  he  pressed  hard  in  the  rout,  and  at  last  laid 
low  with  the  butt  of  his  weapon,  straddling  his  body, 
and  prepared  to  hack  at  his  throat  with  his  knife. 

The  old  chief,  whose  hurt  had  not  bereft  him  of 
his  senses,  begged  piteously  for  his  life  in  a  voice 
choked  by  the  weight  of  O'olo  on  his  chest,  and 

330 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

troubled  by  the  imminence  of  death;  offering  first 
ten  cans  of  biscuit,  and  then  twenty,  and  then 
property  and  fine  mats  in  quantities  unstinted.  But 
O'olo,  although  it  was  like  a  beautiful  dream  come 
true,  dallied  with  the  killing,  being  squeamish  in 
regard  to  it,  and  needing  a  space  to  confirm  his 
resolution,  he  saying  with  derision:  "Thou  pig- 
faced  person,  thou  hast  not  the  property  thou  namest, 
and  even  wert  thou  the  Lord  of  the  earth,  yet  still 
would  I  take  thy  head !"  To  which  the  fallen  warrior 
made  answer:  "I  am  Tangaloa,  the  high-chief  of 
Leatatafili,  in  Savai'i,  and  the  property  I  speak  of 
is  no  myth,  and  all  of  it  thine  if  thou  wilt  spare  me." 
To  which  O'olo  replied:  "And  when  I  should 
claim  it,  verily  thou  wouldst  forget  thy  covenant, 
and  order  thy  young  men  to  chastise  me  forth,  they 
laughing  at  the  cheat,  and  I  with  neither  head  nor 
property,  and  the  back  of  me  lacerated  with  blows !" 
Then  the  old  chief  fell  into  a  great  tremble,  repeat 
ing  :  "No,  no,"  his  flesh  shrinking  on  his  bones,  and 
horror  in  his  face ;  and  as  O'olo  looked  down  at  him, 
making  motions  with  his  knife,  the  Tongan's  thought 
was  suddenly  moved  into  a  new  direction,  and  lo,  it 
was  like  a  burning  torch  in  a  cavern,  so  bright  it 
was  in  the  darkness  of  his  previous  purpose,  he 
saying :  "Oh,  Tangaloa,  there  is  a  price,  and  that  is 
my  adoption  as  thy  son,  and  to  that  wilt  thou  pledge 
thyself  in  an  oath  before  God?"  To  which,  over 
joyed,  the  venerable  warrior  consented  with  im- 

331 


WILD  JUSTICE 


petuosity,  crying  out  that  he  would  do  so,  and  seeing 
in  the  proposal  the  high-chief-hand  of  God,  for  had 
not  his  own  son  lately  died? 

"And  cherish  me,  and  love  me  ?"  demanded  O'olo 
with  renewed  motions  of  his  knife,  he  undesirous 
of  showing  too  great  a  willingness,  and  pretending 
indecision,  besides  doubting  the  chief's  integrity. 

"As  God  sees  me  that  I  will  perform,"  said  Tan- 
galoa,  "and  now  in  my  extremity  I  perceive  the 
worth  of  true  dealing  with  every  man,  for  all  my 
past  years  stand  in  witness  to  my  honor,  and  he 
who  trusted  me  has  never  been  deceived." 

At  this  O'olo  was  reassured,  and  he  repeated  the 
oath  for  Tangaloa  to  say  after  him,  making  it  very 
full  and  exact,  with  nothing  omitted;  and  then  he 
kissed  the  old  man,  beginning  to  feel  for  him  the 
tenderness  of  a  son,  he  that  had  never  had  a  father 
until  this  moment,  and  now  having  gained  one  of 
the  loftiest  rank;  and  he  raised  him  lovingly,  and 
bound  his  wound  with  a  strip  of  cloth,  and  be- 
darlinged  him,  Tangaloa  returning  his  love,  and 
saying  again  and  again:  "Blessed  be  God  that  He 
has  sent  me  a  son  for  my  protection." 

Nor  were  these  words  of  empty  import,  for  others 
of  the  victorious  army  were  much  displeased  at 
O'olo's  clemency,  and  would  have  torn  away  Tan 
galoa  and  killed  him,  had  not  O'olo  resisted  with 
lowered  gun  and  a  threatening  expression,  so  that 
he  dared  not  leave  his  father  for  an  instant  so 

332 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

greedy  were  the  warriors  for  his  head.  All  that 
day  he  crouched  beside  him,  with  neither  water  to 
drink  nor  food  to  eat,  guarding  Tangaloa  preciously ; 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  confusion  that  attends 
the  finish  of  a  battle,  and  the  lessening  of  authority 
that  follows,  he  would  have  been  overpowered  by  a 
multitude,  and  all  his  bravery  wasted.  But  those 
who  assailed  him  were  without  cohesion  or  settled 
plan,  and  they  were  as  dogs,  rushing  up  to  affright, 
and  then  losing  courage  at  O'olo's  demeanor,  which 
was  fierce  and  unshaken,  with  his  rifle  at  the  cock. 

It  was  a  day  terrible  to  remember  in  its  heat  and 
hunger  and  unbearable  thirst,  with  about  them  the 
headless  dead,  festering  in  the  sun  and  blackening, 
and  over  them  the  sky  without  a  cloud,  and  always 
at  their  hearts  the  dread  of  Asi  and  the  chiefs,  re 
turning  to  kill  them  both.  At  dusk  it  seemed  as 
though  O'olo  could  never  get  his  father  to  his  feet, 
so  destroyed  was  the  old  man  by  weakness  and 
disinclination,  and  he  was  as  a  sinking  canoe,  or  a 
sting-ray  flopping  on  the  reef,  and  abandoned  by 
the  tide.  But  O'olo  persevered,  dragging  and  sup 
porting  him  until  coconuts  were  reached,  where  he 
climbed  a  tree  and  threw  down  nui  in  abundance; 
and  as  they  drank  the  water  they  were  greatly  re 
freshed,  and  with  every  bite  of  the  rind,  vigor 
returned,  and  with  vigor,  boldness.  Then  Tangaloa 
said :  "Let  us  pray" ;  and  with  that  they  both  went 
down  on  their  knees,  the  old  chief  beseeching  God 

333 


WILD  JUSTICE 


for  deliverance,  and  repeating  again  and  again  his 
thankfulness  for  O'olo,  and  for  the  nuts. 

But  all  was  far  from  finished,  and  there  was 
much  for  God  to  do  yet  if  ever  He  destined  them  to 
gain  the  security  of  Savai'i;  and  O'olo  proclaimed 
his  intention  of  hiding  in  the  mountains,  and  going 
eastward  circuitously,  and  making  no  sign  or  stir 
until  the  close  of  the  war,  and  the  withdrawal  of  the 
Tuamasanga  from  A'ana.  To  this  Tangaloa  agreed 
without  argument,  resigning  himself  like  a  little 
child  to  O'olo's  guidance,  and  making  no  demur 
when  the  Tongan  said :  "Let  us  rise  and  go,  for  by 
dawn  we  must  be  on  the  heights,  and  beyond 
pursuit." 

Thus  determined,  they  took  the  plantation  road 
upward,  assisted  by  the  moon  which  was  near  its 
full ;  and  toilsomely  attaining  the  limits  of  the  culti 
vated  land,  buried  themselves  in  the  tomb  of  the 
forest.  Here,  with  groping  and  hurt,  and  frequent 
misdirection,  they  struggled  on  and  on,  making  of  a 
watercourse  their  path,  and  at  times  so  hidden  in  the 
defile  of  rocks  that  it  was  as  though  the  earth  had 
closed  over  them.  In  this  manner  were  many  hours 
spent  until  at  last  Tangaloa  fell  exhausted  on  a 
bank  of  ferns,  saying:  "More  I  cannot  do."  Then 
O'olo  built  a  fire  to  warm  his  parent,  who  was 
perishing  of  cold,  and  rubbed  his  legs,  and  shaped 
a  bough  for  his  pillow,  and  kissed  him  lovingly; 
and  when  the  old  man  said:  "I  am  convinced  we 

334 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

shall  die";  he  answered  stoutly,  "No,  we  shall  live, 
for  God  has  not  brought  us  thus  far  to  desert  us 
now";  at  which  Tangaloa  was  comforted  and  went 
to  sleep,  while  O'olo  watched  and  watched  beside 
him,  his  heart  much  troubled  by  the  evil  of  their 
situation,  and  the  frailty  of  the  old  chief,  and  the 
assailing  doubts  as  to  whether,  after  all,  they  should 
ever  escape. 

The  news  of  O'olo's  desertion  was  variously 
twisted  by  the  returning  troops,  so  that  to  Evan- 
italina,  inquiring  in  anguish,  there  were  as  many 
tales  as  men.  Some  would  have  it  that  they  had  seen 
him  die,  giving  details ;  others  that  he  had  run  away 
from  the  battle,  in  wildness  and  panic;  others 
praised  him  truthfully  for  a  hero,  and  as  the  first 
to  leap  the  fort.  Of  these  there  was  a  fewness,  for 
the  most  preferred  to  laud  themselves  or  their  rela 
tions  rather  than  another,  and  accordingly  most  of 
the  chatter  was  scornful  of  O'olo,  and  to  his  dis 
credit.  But  Evanitalina  knew  that  O'olo  was  no 
coward,  and  her  misgiving  was  that  he  was  dead, 
which  deepened  with  the  passing  of  months,  and  no 
sign  nor  token  coming  to  prove  the  contrary. 
Viliamu,  too,  was  assiduous  in  declaring  it,  which 
he  did  with  artfulness  and  pretended  sorrow,  urging 
all  the  while  his  own  suit,  like  a  squid  of  apparent 
harmlessness  on  the  surface,  but  with  its  suckers 
enfolding  venemously  below. 

335 


WILD  JUSTICE 


Never  was  a  maid  in  sadder  straits,  widowed  be 
fore  she  was  a  wife,  and  unceasingly  plagued  by 
Samuelu  to  marry  either  Viliamu  or  Carl.  She 
grew  thin,  and  when  she  walked  it  was  like  a  sick 
person,  staggeringly,  and  once  of  so  passionate  a 
temper  she  changed  to  a  gentleness  that  nothing 
could  disturb.  The  compassion  of  the  other  maids 
lavished  itself  upon  her,  for  they  saw  that  she  was 
dying  of  grief  for  her  beloved ;  and  at  night,  when 
wooed  under  the  stars,  they  spoke  with  tenderness 
of  O'olo  and  Evanitalina,  and  of  their  love  so  cruelly 
ruptured ;  so  that  every  one  wept,  even  young  men 
who  previously  had  had  neither  consideration  nor 
sense,  to  whom  a  maid  was  a  maid,  were  only  she 
pretty,  and  who  would  have  hastened  for  another 
had  the  first  died ;  which  shows  that  true  love  is  like 
a  seed,  growing  and  becoming  a  tree,  from  which 
others  eat  the  fruit  to  their  own  improvement,  and 
increased  understanding. 

Every  day  Evanitalina  grew  more  weak,  yet  un 
like  most  sick  persons,  she  was  without  fear  at  her 
condition,  even  welcoming  it,  and  saying:  "Soon  I 
shall  pass  beyond  the  skies  on  my  last  malanga"; 
an  once  when  she  saw  a  wilted  aute,  she  said :  "Such 
am  I,  once  blooming  and  now  a-droop,"  and  with 
that  she  plucked  fiercely  at  the  petals,  and  crushed 
them  in  her  hand,  as  though  she  were  hastening  her 
own  extinction. 

One  morning,  shortly  after  prayers,  as  she  re- 

336 


CLOUD  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

dined  on  a  mat,  with  her  eyes  raised  to  that  far 
away  country  of  which  she  often  spoke,  while 
Samuelu  sat  at  the  table,  writing  his  sermon,  there 
appeared  on  the  village  green  three  old  gentlemen 
of  stately  and  impressive  appearance,  bearing  staves, 
who,  stopping  at  that  distance,  inquired  loudly 
whether  this  was  the  house  of  Samuelu,  the  clergy 
man?  Then  being  greeted,  and  answered,  "Yes," 
the  three  old  gentlemen  ceremoniously  advanced, 
and  ranged  themselves  within  the  eaves,  saying  that 
they  had  come  on  a  wooing-party  of  sixty  boats  with 
Cloud-of-Butterflies,  the  young  chief  of  Leatatafili, 
who  was  seeking  a  wife.  At  this,  marveling  greatly, 
Samuelu  informed  them  they  were  mistaken  as  to 
the  house,  since  his  highness  Cloud-of-Butterflies  was 
unknown  to  him,  and  he  surely  unknown  to  Cloud- 
of-Butterflies.  But  the  old  orators  replied,  No,  they 
were  not  mistaken,  and  asked  had  he  not  a  daughter 
named  the  Lady  Evanitalina,  for  it  was  for  her 
that  Cloud-of-Butterflies,  in  sixty  boats,  was  at 
hand  to  offer  marriage. 

Then  Samuelu's  amazement  redoubled,  and  even 
Evanitalina,  previously  languid,  looked  up  surprised, 
and  in  her  face  was  a  strange  expression  like  that 
of  a  startled  pigeon ;  and  on  being  asked  in  a  becom 
ing  speech  whether  she  would  condescend  to  receive 
the  visitor  and  his  gifts,  she  answered  with  bewilder 
ment  that  it  was  as  her  father  wished,  at  which 
Samuelu  said,  "Yes,"  with  no  great  willingness, 

337 


WILD  JUSTICE 


desiring  to  continue  his  sermon,  and  dreading  the 
outlay  in  'ova  for  the  reception  of  so  vast  a  company. 
Then  the  three  old  gentlemen  excused  themselves  in 
polished  phrases,  full  of  beauty  and  eloquence,  and 
retired  to  inform  Cloud-of -Butterflies  that  the  Lady 
Evanitalina  was  desirous  that  he  should  come. 

Shortly  afterwards  there  was  the  beat  of  drums, 
and  the  tramp  of  multitudes,  and  the  screaming  of 
innumerable  pigs  borne  on  poles,  and  a  sound  like 
that  of  an  advancing  army,  thunderous  and  roaring. 
The  eaves  of  every  house  was  black  with  onlookers, 
and  there  were  white  people,  galloping  up  on  horses, 
astounded,  and  many  others  on  foot,  running.  Then, 
shaking  the  ground  with  its  progress  the  procession 
marched  into  view;  and  of  pigs  there  seemed  two 
hundred,  and  of  men  a  number  beyond  counting; 
and  at  the  head  were  youths,  throwing  their  rifles  in 
the  air  as  they  sang  and  danced.  But  of  these  things 
Evanitalina  was  scarcely  heedful,  for  with  breathless 
body  and  quivering  heart  her  whole  attention  was  on 
Cloud-of-Butterflies  in  the  center  of  the  pageant, 
who,  girded  in  a  priceless  mat,  and  wearing  at  his 
throat  a  whale-tooth  necklace,  and  surrounded  with 
deference  and  honor,  was  not  to  her  Cloud-of- 
Butterflies  at  all,  but  O'olo,  arisen  from  the  grave, 
and  hastening  to  claim  her  for  his  bride. 


BEN 

I  WAS  in  the  bark  Ransom,  with  twenty  tons  of 
trade  aboard,  and  looking  for  a  station  up  in  the 
Westward,  when  I  fixed  it  up  with  Tom  Feltenshaw 
at  Arorai  Island  to  buy  him  out.  It  was  a  good 
little  station,  and  far  better  than  I  could  have  hoped 
for  at  the  money  I  had  to  offer,  with  a  new  tin  roof 
and  a  water  tank  and  a  copra  shed  with  a  cement 
floor,  and  an  imported  banana  in  an  imported  ton  of 
earth  to  give  a  natty  effect  to  the  back  view — the 
front  being  all  reef  and  dazzle  and  Pacific  Ocean. 

Lonesome?  Coffin-lid,  nail-her-down,  lonesome — 
why,  of  course !  Was  there  ever  a  coral  island  that 
wasn't?  But  there  was  copra  in  plenty;  only  one 
other  trader  and  him  a  boozer ;  quite  a  bit  of  pearl 
shell,  and  Tom's  book  showing  how  he  had  cleared 
thirty-three  hundred  dollars  in  a  year.  He  had  boils 
something  awful,  and  for  the  last  two  years  it  had 
just  been  a  fight  to  stick  it  out.  I  came  along  when 
the  boils  had  won  all  along  the  line,  with  Tom  ready 
to  leave  everything  all  standing  in  order  to  get  away. 

There  hadn't  been  a  ship  in  five  months,  and 
he  had  come  mighty  near  pegging  out,  having  made 
his  will  and  tacked  it  to  the  shed  door,  besides  giving 
the  natives  receipts  in  advance  that  he  had  died  a 

339 


WILD  JUSTICE 


natural  death,  they  being  afraid  some  passing  man-* 
of-war  might  hold  them  responsible  and  shoot  up  the 
island. 

We  had  settled  everything,  counted  out  the  money, 
and  shook  hands  when  Tom  says,  over  a  good-by 
nip  of  Square-face:  "Oh,  that  girl  of  mine,  Ben, 
— you'll  take  care  her,  won't  you  ?" 

"Girl?"  says  I. 

"She's  broke  in  to  cooking  and  washing  and  white 
ways,"  explains  Tom,  "and  it'd  go  against  my  con 
science  to  feel  I  hadn't  left  her  comfortable." 

"Let's  see  her,"  I  said. 

He  called  her  in,  and  one  glance  at  her  settled  the 
matter.  She  was  about  eighteen,  as  slim  and  straight 
as  a  dart,  and,  by  far  and  away,  the  prettiest  woman 
I  had  seen  in  the  group.  She  stood  there  mighty 
sullen  as  I  sized  her  up,  and  admired  her  splendid 
black  hair  that  was  bound  by  a  red  ribbon  at  the  nape 
of  her  neck,  very  coquettish  and  attractive.  I've 
always  liked  that  proud,  to-hell-with-you  look  in  a 
girl,  and  it  seemed  to  make  her  better  worth  having, 
like  there  was  something  to  master  before  you  could 
have  your  will  with  her.  Yes,  it  was  bargain  day 
for  me  all  right,  and  the  store  wasn't  the  only  thing 
I  was  getting  cheap. 

"What  she  saying?"  I  asked,  as  she  spoke  some 
thing  in  Kanaka  to  Tom,  showing  real  pretty  teeth. 

"She  won't  stay  if  you  whip  her,"  grins  Tom. 

"Bless  her  heart,  I  won't  whip  her,"  I  says,  think- 

340 


BEN 

ing  to  break  the  ice  by  pulling  her  down  on  my 
knee.  But  she  struggled  like  a  wildcat,  and  Tom, 
he  suddenly  turns  red-hot  jealous. 

"Leave  that  till  I'm  gone,"  he  says,  kind  of  chok 
ing.  "If  it  wasn't  for  these  damn  boils  I  should 
never  have  parted  with  her  or  the  station."  Then 
after  another  nip  he  takes  his  bag  of  money,  and 
calls  out  to  the  Kanakas  at  the  porch  to  carry  his 
two  chests  down  to  the  boat  that  was  laying  there 
ready  to  take  him  aboard.  He  ups  as  though  to  kiss 
the  girl  good-by,  but  she  sprang  back  from  him,  as 
fierce  as  she  had  been  with  me — fiercer,  I  guess ;  and 
when  he  caught  her  she  turned  away  her  head  like 
she  hated  him.  Then  he  swore  and  stumbled  out  of 
the  house  without  another  word  or  anything,  while 
me  and  the  girl  stood  side  by  side,  both  of  us  in  our 
different  ways  deserted,  and  slung  together  by  the 
fate  of  things.  She  didn't  fight  this  time  when  I 
made  free  with  her  again,  but  began  to  sob  like  her 
heart  would  break,  while  I  squeezed  and  cuddled  her 
and  watched  the  sinking  topsails  of  the  Ransom. 

Women  are  always  alike  at  bottom ;  it  is  only  men 
that  are  different.  A  bit  of  finery  would  make 
Rosie  happy  for  a  week.  Her  hair  was  an  everlast 
ing  job,  so  was  her  skin,  which  she  kept  out  of  the 
sun  and  rubbed  down  very  careful  with  oil.  She 
took  walks  to  see  how  the  other  women  wore  the 
single  bushy  garment  that  they  do  in  the  Gilberts, 

341 


WILD  JUSTICE 


the  fashion  varying  from  time  to  time:  now  it  is 
swung  very  jaunty  from  side  to  side,  now  it's  low 
and  now  it's  high,  and  sometimes  it's  thick  and 
sometimes  it's  thin,  and  sometimes  the  modest-and- 
quiet  is  the  dressy  way  of  it.  She  took  care  of  the 
house  very  nice,  and  what  few  clothes  and  things 
we  had  were  arranged  most  tidy  in  three  chests  with 
bell  locks.  I  never  hear  a  little  bell  ting-a-ling 
to-day  but  what  it  brings  those  days  back  to  me,  with 
her  so  busy  at  our  funny  housekeeping.  When  I 
coasted  around  the  island,  trading,  she  'ud  stay  be 
hind  and  guard  the  place  like  a  bulldog,  and  never 
took  a  thing  except  a  little  soap  or  tobacco  or  maybe 
a  tin  of  meat  for  her  Pa,  a  nosing  old  gentleman 
dressed  in  a  mat,  who  always  bobbed  up  when  I  was 
out  of  the  way,  being  discouraged  at  other  times 
from  living  and  dying  with  us. 

Yes,  I  got  very  fond  of  her — loved  her,  you 
might  call  it,  for  all  she  was  a  little  savage,  and  ate 
squid,  and  carried  a  shark-tooth  dagger  against  any 
of  the  girls  that  might  show  a  fancy  for  me.  In 
time  I  taught  her  to  play  cribbage  and  checkers  and 
dominoes,  so  that  at  night  we  would  sit  very  sociable 
under  the  lamp,  she  and  I,  with  the  surf  groaning  on 
the  outer  reef,  and  it  was  more  like  a  home  than  I'd 
ever  had  in  my  wandering,  lonely,  up-and-down  life. 
She  was  quick  to  learn,  and  loving  to  beat  the  band, 
yet  ever  kind  of  imperious  and  saucy  like  I  belonged 
to  her  instead  of  its  being  the  other  way  around. 

342 


BEN 

She  had  no  idea  of  white  people — used  to  say  they 
looked  like  Kanakas  who  had  been  drowned  for  a 
week — and  was  most  scornful  how  it  was  always 
copra,  copra,  copra  with  us.  It  was  just  her  way  to 
tease  me  and  make  me  cross,  for  then  she  would 
snuggle  up  and  ripple  over  with  laughter  and  hold 
me  tight  in  her  soft,  round  girlish  arms,  and  say  that 
I  was  her  copra — a  whole  ship  of  it,  and  how  she 
'ud  hang  herself  from  a  coconut  tree  if  I  were  to 
die — and  by  God,  she  would  have  done  it,  too,  them 
Gilbert  women  being  great  on  love,  and  the  thing 
happening  often  enough. 

Several  years  passed,  and  I  can't  recall  a  single 
word  of  disagreement  between  us.  She  was  all  the 
world  to  me  in  those  days,  and  I  doubt  if  in  the 
whole  group  there  was  a  pair  so  happy.  Ben's 
Rosie,  they  called  her — the  captains  and  supercargoes 
and  mates  that  came  our  way — and  they  all  thought 
a  lot  of  her,  and  brought  her  many  a  little  present 
that  made  her  eyes  sparkle — such  pretty  eyes  as  they 
were,  and  so  full  of  fun — gold  fish,  and  rolls  of 
silk,  and  music  boxes  or  a  trade  hat.  It  was  always 
a  standing  joke  that  she  was  tired  of  me,  and  was 
going  to  run  away  with  them;  and  if  they  were 
quite  old,  like  Captain  Smith  or  Billy  Baker,  there 
wasn't  any  length  she  wouldn't  go  to,  even  to  hug 
ging  them  and  playing  with  their  whiskers  right 
before  me,  and  saying  in  her  sweet,  broken  English : 
"Oh,  you  poor  old  captain,  with  nobody  to  love  you 

343 


WILD  JUSTICE 


— but  never  mind,  I  go  with  you  this  time,  sure  I  go, 
and  Bennie  can  get  a  girl  from  Big  Muggin,  oh,  so 
pretty,  who  bite  him  like  a  dog !" 

Then  little  Ben  came,  and  for  a  time  it  looked  as 
though  he  was  going  to  be  quite  a  boy,  and  grow  up. 
But  at  the  end  of  twenty-one  months,  as  he  was 
nearing  his  second  birthday,  he  sickened  and  died; 
and  we  dressed  him  up  in  his  poor  little  best,  and  put 
him  away  forever  in  the  coral.  Rosie  took  on  about 
it  terrible — so  terrible  that  I  think  something  must 
have  broken  in  her  brain.  She  was  never  the  same 
afterwards;  not  that  she  was  always  mourning,  I 
don't  mean  that — but  she  grew  cranky  and  queer  and 
changed  in  every  way.  She  would  start  into  a  fury 
at  a  word,  and  throw  things  about,  and  scream.  She 
would  tell  the  most  awful  lies  about  how  I  had 
treated  her,  and  invent  things  that  never  took  place. 
Even  on  a  dot  of  a  coral  island  there  is  gossip  and 
slander  and  a  Kanaka  Mrs.  Grundy,  and  Rosie  was 
doing  her  best  to  ruin  me,  so  that  I  was  avoided, 
and  the  King  and  the  other  high  muck-a-mucks  went 
to  Tyson's,  the  opposition  trader,  and  tabooed  my 
store  till  I  didn't  know  which  way  to  turn. 

I  ought  to  have  sold  out  and  quit,  and  left  Rosie 
on  the  other  fellow  like  Feltenshaw  had  done  me. 
But  I  loved  her  for  what  she  had  been  to  me,  and 
for  the  poor  mite  moldering  under  ground,  and  so 
just  took  my  medicine  for  a  whole  miserable  year 
and  let  it  go  at  that.  Every  misfortune  I've  had  in 

344 


BEN 

life  I  seem  to  trace  to  what  was  good  and  generous 
in  me.  Certainly  if  I'd  shaken  her  off  then  and 
there,  I  would  have  been  a  happier  man,  and  been 
saved  things  that  have  since  almost  drove  me  mad. 

The  upshot  of  it  was  that  finally  I  did  sell  the  sta 
tion  to  a  couple  of  Chinamen — brothers — and  I  would 
like  to  say  right  here  there  never  was  a  whiter  pair 
than  these  two,  or  any  that  stood  up  straighter  to  a 
bargain.  Once  the  main  price  was  fixed,  there  was 
no  haggling  over  valuations,  nor  any  backwardness 
or  suspicion,  though  in  the  rush  I  was  in  not  to  hold 
the  schooner  over  long,  it  would  have  been  easy  to 
beat  me  out  of  a  hundred  dollars  or  two.  They 
pulled  us  off  to  the  vessel — me  and  Rosie  and  them 
three  camphor-wood  chests  with  the  bell  locks  and  a 
big  roll  of  mats  and  a  keg  of  silver  dollars — and  an 
hour  later  six  years  of  my  life  had  sunk  with  the 
palms,  as  lost  and  disappeared  as  the  schooner's 
wake  in  the  sea  behind  us. 

After  the  Line  Apia  struck  me  as  a  wonderfully 
bustling,  busy  little  place,  and  I  took  to  it  like  a  man 
does  who's  had  nothing  but  coral  and  coconuts  to 
look  at  till  all  the  world  seems  nothing  else.  It  came 
over  me  what  a  prisoner  I'd  been  up  there,  and  how 
much  I  had  paid  in  unthought-of  ways  for  that  keg 
of  Chile  money.  Rosie,  too,  brightened  up  con 
siderable  with  the  novelty  of  it  all,  and  was  so  gay 
and  laughing  and  like  her  old  self  that  I  was  gladder 
than  ever  at  having  made  the  change. 

345 


WILD  JUSTICE 


It  didn't  take  me  long  to  size  up  conditions;  and 
the  better  part  of  that  keg  soon  put  me  in  possession 
of  a  two-story  house  and  store  in  the  center  of  the 
town  on  the  main  street,  with  a  pretty  good  stock 
taken  over  from  the  widow  of  the  man  who  had 
lately  died  there.  I  was  hardly  what  could  be  called 
a  trader  any  more,  what  with  a  place  so  big  and  fine, 
with  a  tramway  running  down  to  a  shaky  wharf,  and 
a  busted  bookkeeper  coming  in  every  Tuesday  night 
to  post  my  books.  I  was  a  South  Sea  merchant  now, 
and  was  reaping  the  fruit  of  all  them  lonely  slaving 
days  on  the  Line.  No  more  pajamas  neither,  but  a 
clean,  white  suit  every  day,  and  with  Rosie  perking 
up  like  she  did,  them  were  real  good  times  for  me, 
and  pleasant  to  look  back  on ;  and  though  I  do  say  it 
myself,  my  neighbors  liked  me  and  I  was  respected 
and  looked  up  to,  and  I  was  called  the  Gilbert  Island 
Cousul  from  the  way  I  was  always  ready  to  befriend 
anybody  from  there,  whether  white  or  native,  even 
once  going  before  the  Supreme  Court  and  being 
complimented  by  the  Chief  Justice  on  behalf  of  some 
Nonootch  people  whose  wages  were  being  held  back. 

Then  my  ward  run  me  for  the  Municipal  Council, 
and  I  was  elected  by  twenty-two  votes  to  four  over 
Grevsmuhl;  and  I  can  tell  you  it  made  me  feel  a 
mighty  proud  man  to  be  honored  like  that  and 
placed  so  high ;  and  if  my  head  didn't  swell  I  guess 
my  heart  did,  to  almost  bursting,  at  such  a  rise  in 
life,  and  one  so  unexpected  and  undreamed  of.  It 

346 


BEN 

hardly  seemed  it  could  be  me  the  police  touched 
their  caps  to,  or  the  consuls  confabbed  with  about 
local  affairs  as  they  dropped  in  to  buy  a  toothbrush 
or  a  pair  of  socks — me  who  had  landed  there  so 
short  a  time  before  in  my  pajamas  and  kind  of  dazed 
at  the  size  and  noise  of  the  place  after  the  silence  of 
the  Line — just  common  old  me,  with  earrings  in  my 
ears  and  gaping  like  a  Rube. 

It  meant  a  big  uplift  to  me  in  every  kind  of  a 
way,  and  I  was  a  better  man  for  all  that  confidence 
and  trust,  and  wanted  like  hell  to  show  I  was  worth 
it.  The  week  after  I  was  elected  to  the  Council  I 
married  Rosie  proper  and  right,  thinking  a  Councillor 
ought  to  set  an  example  in  his  community ;  and  every 
one  was  very  cordial  to  me  about  it,  especially  in  my 
own  ward,  where  two  or  three  of  them  even  followed 
my  lead,  saying  that  with  the  mail  steamers  now 
calling  and  the  town  generally  on  the  up  grade,  it 
was  time  to  let  go  on  the  old,  wrong  way  of  things, 
and  get  into  line  with  civilization. 

Whether  it  was  the  change  from  the  coral  islands 
or  the  lavish  new  diet  or  what,  Rosie  had  been  laying 
on  flesh  for  a  long  time  in  a  quiet,  unnoticed  kind 
of  way  till  finally  she  suddenly  plumped  up  like  a 
balloon.  My,  but  she  grew  something  awful,  a 
waddling,  monstrous  mountain  of  a  woman,  with 
her  eyes  burying  like  a  pig's,  and  the  whole  of  her 
shaking  as  she  walked.  She  was  ashamed  to 
go  out  any  more  except  by  night,  sulking  all  day 

347 


WILD  JUSTICE 


indoors,  instead,  and  rocking  in  a  hammock.  As  I 
said  before,  she'd  never  been  right  since  Benny's 
death,  and  though  she  had  pulled  up  for  a  time  and 
acted  very  much  improved  she  slumped  at  last,  and 
slumped  worse  than  she  ever  had  been.  Her  old 
surly  fits  on  the  Line  were  nothing  compared  with 
the  rampageous  way  she  went  on  now,  and  if  there 
was  ever  a  she  devil  on  earth  or  a  man  driven  plumb 
distracted  it  was  Rosie  and  me  in  our  splendid  house. 

When  she  was  taken  with  those  spells  of  hers  she 
was  nothing  less  than  a  cursing,  snarling,  foaming 
maniac,  and  stopped  at  nothing  to  make  me  a 
spectacle  and  a  byword.  Again  and  again  she  chased 
me  out  with  an  ax;  she  would  fling  into  the  store 
with  nothing  over  her  but  a  single  dirty  garment, 
and  pull  down  whole  shelves  of  stuff  out  of  sheer 
devilment,  screaming  with  rage.  She  slandered 
everybody,  and  reflected  on  every  woman  who  was 
unfortunate  enough  to  know  us,  so  that  I  was  sued 
twice  for  defamation — or  rather  she — with  verdict 
and  damages,  all  that  I  could  do  being  to  hold  up  my 
hands  and  tell  the  judge  she  wasn't  answerable  for 
her  actions.  Hell,  that  was  what  it  was — straight, 
unadulterated  hell — with  no  way  out  that  I  could  see 
till  I  died  or  she. 

It  was  about  this  time  I  began  to  notice  a  fellow 
named  Tyne  on  the  beach — a  thin,  tall,  hungry- 
looking  man  in  a  derby  hat,  very  shabby  black 
clothes,  and  no  socks — who  was  said  to  be  a  busted 

348 


BEN 

doctor  landed  off  of  a  French  bark.  His  name  came 
up  before  the  Council,  but  as  he  had  no  papers  or 
diplomas  to  show,  and  was  hazy  besides  where  he 
came  from  and  how,  we  refused  to  let  him  practice, 
and  were  insulted  besides  at  his  daring  to  ask  us. 

Well,  one  day  this  Tyne,  he  comes  into  my  store, 
very  hang-dog,  and  so  famished  and  shaky  that  I 
couldn't  but  feel  sorry  for  him,  and  he  asks  for  the 
job  of  pushing  my  handcart  around  the  beach,  getting 
stuff  out  of  Customs,  and  making  deliveries — he 
having  heard  I  had  fired  my  Nieue  boy  for  pilfering. 

"Fifty  cents  a  day,  Doc,"  I  says.  "It's  hardly  fit 
for  a  white  man." 

"My  God,"  he  says,  in  a  real  gentleman's  voice, 
"I'm  starving.  I'd  push  anything  anywhere  for  a 
bite  of  bread  and  a  corner  of  a  shed  to  sleep  in. 
Ain't  there  a  spark  of  charity  in  this  town  for  a 
white  man  who  is  down  on  his  uppers?" 

I  answered  him  with  a  can  of  sardines  and  some 
pilot  break,  which  he  went  out  and  wolfed  right 
there  on  the  front  stoop,  and  then  came  back  wanting 
to  know  where  was  the  cart  and  what  was  he  to  do  ? 
This  was  first  how  we  got  acquainted,  Doc  and  me ; 
and  a  remarkably  finely  educated  man  he  was,  too, 
and  I  don't  doubt  for  a  minute  all  that  he  represented 
himself.  I  fixed  up  a  small  shed  for  him  with  some 
mats,  a  tin  basin  and  a  lamp ;  and  after  a  day  or  two, 
seeing  how  willing  he  worked  and  how  faithful  in 
spite  of  every  one  staring  at  a  white  man  between 

349 


WILD  JUSTICE 


the  shafts,  I  let  him  take  his  meals  regular  with  me 
and  Rosie  like  one  of  the  family. 

For  all  he  was  down  and  out,  and  trundled  my 
things  about  the  beach  like  a  donkey,  in  knowledge 
and  everything  he  was  miles  above  me  and  I  knew  it 
— and  he  made  it  plain  he  knew  it,  too.  He  was  not 
at  all  a  genial  man,  but  had  a  rasping,  bitter  way 
about  him,  and  a  tongue  as  sharp  as  a  razor,  and  a 
line  of  talk  as  to  how  the  world  was  made  up  of 
flats  and  sharpers,  all  of  them  hypocrites,  and  how 
there  wasn't  but  one  sin — and  that  was  to  be  found 
out.  He  talked  like  the  devil  might  be  expected  to 
talk,  there  being  no  goodness  or  honor  anywhere; 
and  in  some  ways  he  wasn't  unlike  him  in  looks  as 
generally  represented,  being  tall  and  thin,  with  keen 
gray  eyes  that  seemed  to  bore  right  through  you,  and 
a  wicked,  sneering  mouth  like  a  slit  across  his  face. 

Very  soon  he  was  doctoring  natives  on  the  sly  for 
quarters  and  half  dollars  and  bonito  hooks  and  tappa, 
and  quite  a  row  of  bottles  and  drug-store  stuff  began 
to  accumulate  along  the  ledges  of  the  shed  walls.  I 
didn't  think  it  was  my  business  to  interfere  as  long 
as  he  let  white  people  alone,  besides  feeling  sorry 
for  him,  and  appreciating  the  way  he  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  Rosie's  outbreaks,  sitting  there  like  he  was 
air,  and  not  passing  a  single  remark — being,  for  all 
his  faults,  a  gentleman  through  and  through.  At 
last  he  chucked  the  handcart  altogether,  though  he 
went  on  messing  with  me  and  living  in  my  shed,  his 

350 


BEN 

Kanaka  practice  growing  very  extensive.  It  grew 
and  grew  till  finally  the  regular  doctor  called  a 
halt,  and  he  was  warned  in  an  official  letter,  and  told 
he  would  get  three  months'  imprisonment  if  he  per 
sisted.  At  this  I  thought  he  would  go  back  to  the 
shafts  again,  though  I  didn't  care  to  propose  it  lest 
it  should  hurt  his  feelings.  But  instead  he  bought 
an  accordion  and  did  nothing  but  play  and  play  on  it 
for  days,  beginning  awful  bad  like  he  didn't  know 
one  end  of  it  from  another,  but  improving  wonderful 
till  it  was  dandy  to  hear  him. 

I  guess  there  was  nothing  Doc  couldn't  do  if  he 
tried,  though  why  accordion  was  more  than  I  could 
answer.  But  it  wasn't  loafing  that  kept  him  stuffed 
in  a  hot  shed  all  day,  wheezing  polkas  out  of  the 
hurdy-gurdy,  but  a  real  good  idea  of  improving  on 
the  handcart.  What  if  he  didn't  make  a  whole  band 
out  of  himself,  with  a  harness  holding  a  comb  across 
his  mouth,  and  a  bass  drum  for  him  to  kick  with 
one  foot  and  a  tambourine  to  frisk  with  the  other. 
My,  when  he  started  off  with  "The  Stars  and  Stripes 
Forever"  you  might  have  thought  he  was  six,  with 
a  drum  major  prancing  along  in  front!  He  give  a 
demonstration  that  night  in  the  Tivoli  Hotel,  and 
drew  the  town ;  and  when  he  come  home  it  was  with 
a  pocketful  of  silver  and  a  couple  of  dates  for  a 
wedding  and  the  Kaiser's  birthday. 

After  that  Doc  became  an  institution,  with  a 
pretty  Kanaka  girl  to  carry  the  drum  and  pass  round 

351 


WILD  JUSTICE 


the  saucer ;  and  every  night  when  he  hadn't  a  special 
engagement  he  would  make  the  round  of  the  bars, 
picking  up  what  little  he  could.  If  there  was  a  ship 
to  be  sold  at  auction,  or  a  public  meeting  to  protest 
against  a  high-handed  something,  it  got  to  be  the 
fashion  to  plaster  the  notice  of  it  on  Doc's  back,  him 
playing  under  a  tree  for  all  he  was  worth  with  the 
sweat  pouring  down  his  face,  while  all  hands  turned 
out  to  see  what  was  the  rumpus.  He  made  money 
hand  over  fist,  and  would  have  paid  for  his  keep 
only  I  wouldn't  have  it.  We  had  grown  to  be  sort 
of  friends,  him  and  me,  from  both  having  so  much 
to  bear — for  he  was  too  proud  and  highly  educated 
a  man  to  like  making  a  monkey  of  himself,  and  it 
ground  into  him  hard,  and  with  me  it  was  Rosie, 
Rosie,  Rosie. 

Oh,  God,  what  things  I  had  to  put  up  with! 
What  endless  mortifications !  What  everlasting, 
heartbreaking  scenes  and  scandals !  She  got  to  fol 
lowing  me  to  Council  meetings,  bellowing  like  a 
wildcat,  and  clawing  the  policeman  who  was  ordered 
to  put  her  out ;  and  again  and  again  I  had  to  leave 
in  the  middle  to  try  and  get  her  home,  half  the 
beach  tagging  along  with  us,  laughing  and  jeering 
till  I  could  have  died  of  shame. 

The  day  I  resigned  from  the  Council,  being  un 
able  to  stand  it  any  longer,  I  was  sitting  in  the  front 
room,  with  my  head  in  my  hands,  when  Doc  came 
in,  and  patted  me  on  the  back. 

352 


BEN 

"Too  bad,"  he  says,  "too  bad." 

"Oh,  Doc,"  I  says,  "I'm  the  most  miserable  chap 
alive." 

"It's  bound  to  end  some  time,"  he  remarked. 

I  shook  my  head.  We  had  no  means  of  taking 
care  of  lunatics,  and  that  was  about  what  Rosie  was. 
The  Colonies  all  had  laws,  barring  out  undesirables 
and  such,  even  if  a  steamer  would  have  taken  her, 
which  none  of  them  would.  "I'll  tell  you  what  I'd 
do,"  said  Doc.  "I'd  give  five  hundred  dollars  to  a 
labor-ship  captain,  put  her  aboard  at  night,  and 
leave  it  to  him  to  land  her  in  one  of  those  islands 
where  they  eat  you  for  dinner." 

"I  couldn't  do  that,"  I  said. 

"Too  fond  of  your  money,  eh?"  he  sneers. 

"Oh,  Doc,"  I  answered,  "I'd  give  everything  I 
possess,  lock,  stock  and  barrel — and  ten  years  of  my 
life  thrown  in — to  be  decently  quit  of  her." 

He  smiled  a  bit  incredulous.  "Suppose  an  angel 
came  down  from  heaven  and  took  you  at  your 
word,"  he  says.  "The  next  day  you'd  be  beating 
Mr.  Angel  out  of  his  price — you  know  you  would, 
and  screaming  worse  than  she  does  at  being  held  to 
your  bargain." 

"Perhaps  I  would,  Doc,"  I  agreed,  his  manner 
of  speaking  somehow  making  it  feel  very  real; 
"it's  hard  to  begin  without  a  dollar  and  nothing  but 
the  clothes  you  stand  in.  But  downstairs  in  my  safe 
I  have  two  thousand  dollars  in  hard  cash,  American 

353 


WILD  JUSTICE 


money,  which  the  angel  could  take  and  welcome." 

"That's  a  lot  of  money,"  he  says,  wondering  like, 
"but  it  would  be  worth  it  to  you,  wouldn't  it  ?" 

"My  God,  yes,"  I  says,  rather  regretting  I  told 
him  about  the  safe,  for  there  was  a  shine  in  his  eyes 
and  a  calculating  look  I  didn't  like. 

"And  you  wouldn't  bilk  the  angel  when  he  handed 
in  his  bill  ?"  he  went  on. 

"Oh,  hell,  Doc,"  I  said,  "what's  the  use  of  talking 
of  angels?  I've  just  got  to  grin  and  bear  it." 

"But  you'd  pay,  wouldn't  you?"  he  persisted. 

I  said  yes,  just  to  stop  his  pestering;  and  after  a 
couple  of  drinks  off  of  the  sideboard  he  went  away. 
That  evening  I  locked  myself  in  the  store,  took  the 
money  out  of  the  safe,  and  carried  it  up  to  the  attic 
where  I  hid  it  under  an  old  mattress.  I  smeared  a 
little  varnish  around  the  combination  lock  with  a 
rag,  and  next  day  I  looked  for  finger  marks,  but 
there  weren't  none.  Yet  I  was  still  suspicious,  and 
the  money  stayed  in  the  attic.  Doc  was  too  bright 
a  man  to  have  left  home  without  a  reason. 

"Things  went  on  as  usual  for  a  long  time — busi 
ness  middling,  Doc  rounding  up  the  bars,  Rosie 
raising  Cain  occasionally,  or  snarling  and  muttering 
in  the  hammock  just  as  the  humor  took  her.  It  was 
the  damnedest  life  for  a  man  to  lead,  just  pigging  it 
and  worse  every  day,  with  no  order  and  anything — a 
can  of  meat  for  lunch,  a  can  of  meat  for  dinner,  and 
the  table  left  slovenly  like  it  was.  Then  she  fell 

354 


BEN 

kind  of  sick,  and  though  I  felt  sorry  to  see  her 
doubled  up  and  groaning,  it  had  a  good  side  to  it,  for 
I  got  a  Chinaman  in  to  cook  at  forty  dollars  a  month, 
and  he  straightened  things  out  fine  and  cleaned  up 
the  dirt  of  ages.  I  called  in  Doctor  Funk,  the 
regular  physician,  and  for  a  time  Rosie  improved, 
getting  well  enough  to  nearly  bite  the  cook's  finger 
off  when  he  tried  to  stop  her  giving  away  a  con 
signment  of  hams.  But  after  a  while  she  took  sick 
again,  the  cramps  coming  back  worse  than  ever,  and 
I  let  Doc  do  what  he  could  for  her,  which  wasn't 
much,  though  better  than  Funk,  whose  stuff  didn't 
seem  any  more  good  and  had  lost  its  effect. 

Finally,  early  one  morning,  she  was  taken  most 
awful  bad,  vomiting  blood,  and  twisting  and  twitch 
ing  in  a  way  horrible  to  see,  she  being  so  mountain 
ous  fat,  and  gibbering  crazily  in  the  Gilbert  language 
— all  about  me  and  little  Benny,  and  devils  snapping 
at  her  toes,  and  a  giant  squid  what  was  dragging  her 
down  to  drown.  Then  of  a  sudden  she  grew  very 
quiet,  and  Doc,  looking  close  to  her  face,  said,  "Good 
God,  she  is  dead!"  Yes,  dead,  just  as  Doctor 
Funk  hurried  in,  glaring  to  see  Doc  there,  and  say 
ing  something  out  loud  about  God  damn  quacks,  and 
looking  and  smelling  savagely  at  the  different  bottles. 
Doc  slunk  out  of  sight,  and  then  Funk,  he  calmed 
down,  and  spoke  to  me  very  sympathetic  and  kind 
as  to  what  I  was  to  do,  and  how,  after  all,  it  was  a 
merciful  release. 

355 


WILD  JUSTICE 


I  buried  her  the  same  day,  that  being  the  rule  in 
the  tropics,  and  the  better  part  of  the  town  followed 
her  to  the  grave  in  the  foreign  cemetery,  that  being 
a  kind  of  rule  or  custom,  too,  in  Apia,  as  well  as 
everybody  getting  tight  afterwards  at  the  Tivoli 
bar. 

It  was  a  strange  feeling  to  come  back  to  the  house 
and  to  know  that  Rosie  was  gone  out  of  it  forever, 
and  that  I  had  passed  another  big  landmark  in  my 
life.  For  all  it  was  such  a  release,  I  was  bluer  than 
blue,  yet  I  won't  deny  I  was  glad,  too,  but  in  a 
frightened  kind  of  way,  and  half  wishing  again  and 
again  that  she  was  back.  Her  running  on  about 
Benny  and  me  before  she  died  stuck  in  my  throat, 
and  seemed  awful  pitiful;  and  I  remembered  how 
pretty  she  once  had  been,  and  always  such  a  good, 
true  wife,  and  how  me  and  the  little  store  was  all 
the  world  to  her  before  sorrow  broke  her  heart. 

I  went  upstairs,  and  sat  looking  out  on  the  bay, 
thinking  it  all  over,  and  how  in  time  death  comes 
to  every  one  of  us,  high  or  low;  thinking,  too,  that 
I  was  a  free  man  now — a  prosperous,  respected, 
looked-up-to  man,  and  an  ex-Councillor  with  a  home 
that  many  a  woman  would  consider  well  worth  shar 
ing.  I  wondered  if  Miss  Nelson  up  at  the  Mission 
would  consider  a  man  as  unrefined  as  I  was  and 
thirty-seven  years  old,  she  so  sweet  and  young  and 
with  such  gentle,  winning  ways.  She  was  a  govern 
ess  to  their  children,  and  that  made  me  think  she 

356 


BEN 

would,  for  no  woman  likes  to  be  a  dependent  and 
at  the  beck  and  call  of  another.  I  sat  there  dreaming 
of  her,  and  of  the  place  nicely  fixed  up,  and  of  us 
driving  out  of  a  Sunday  to  Vailele  in  a  smart  little 
buggy,  with  me  reflected  to  the  Council,  and  people 
saying:  "How  d'ye  do,  won't  you  drop  in  a  mo 
ment?" — to  me  and  Miss  Nelson,  married. 

If  this  sounds  wrong,  remember  Rosie  had  been 
no  wife  to  me  for  three  years — only  a  torment  and 
a  disgrace — and  I  deserved  some  credit  for  having 
stood  it  like  I  did.  I  had  never  dared  have  such 
thoughts  before,  though  I'd  often  remarked  what  a 
pretty  creature  Miss  Nelson  was,  just  like  a  man 
does  without  anything  further  in  his  head.  Yet 
looking  back  on  it,  and  the  few  times  she  had  been 
in  the  store  when  we  had  spoken  together,  I  kind  of 
felt  she  liked  me,  and  she  had  certainly  never  been  in 
any  hurry  to  leave;  with  this  much  to  go  on,  and 
the  fact  that  she  always  smiled  at  me  most  winsome 
the  few  times  we  passed  each  other  on  the  street,  I 
couldn't  help  thinking  I  had  made  a  start  without  my 
knowing  it,  and  that  if  I  followed  it  up  hard  this 
dream  of  her  and  me  might  be  made  to  come  true. 

I  was  turning  this  over  in  my  mind  when  a  squall 
of  rain  came  tearing  along,  the  sky  all  black  with  it, 
and  the  roof  hammering  like  a  boiler  factory.  In 
Samoa  you  needn't  look  out  of  the  window  to  see  if 
it  is  raining.  It  comes  down  deafening,  and  the 
iron  roars  with  the  weight  and  smash  of  it.  This 

357 


WILD  JUSTICE 


was  how  I  didn't  notice  Doc  till  he  stood  right  there 
beside  me.  There  was  something  awful  strange  and 
grave  about  him,  and  I  give  a  little  jump  I  was  that 
taken  by  surprise. 

He  lit  a  cigar,  and  waited  very  impatient  for  the 
squall  to  pass;  and  as  he  went  to  the  window  and 
beat  a  little  tattoo  on  it  with  his  finger  nail,  I  noticed 
he  was  all  dressed  up  like  I'd  never  seen  him  before. 
Then  he  came  back,  looking  at  me  very  steadfast, 
and  says:  "Well,  Ben,  you're  out  of  the  woods  at 
last." 

"Yes,  thank  the  Lord !"  says  I. 

"Same  here,"  he  says,  meaning  himself.  "When 
the  mail  comes  in  to-night,  I'm  off  to  San  Francisco." 

"Why,  Doc!"  I  cried  out,  utterly  flabbergasted. 

"Yes,"  he  says,  "and  for  all  I  care,  the  whole 
damned  island  may  sink  in  the  sea,  and  stay  there, 
with  nothing  but  coconuts  and  my  old  accordion  to 
mark  the  place  and  maybe  one  of  the  wheels  of  that 
bloody  handcart." 

I  was  still  knocked  silly. 

"But,  Doc,"  I  says,  "you  can't  have  enough  to  pay 
your  passage." 

Then  he  laughs. 

"A  hundred  and  seventy-five  ain't  much  out  of  two 
thousand,"  he  says. 

"Two  thousand  ?"  I  says,  more  mystified  than  ever. 

"Yes,"  he  answers,  facing  me  square.  "The  two 
thousand  that  you  owe  me,  Mr.  Ben." 

358 


BEN 

I  was  just  going  to  answer  I  didn't  owe  him 
nothing  when  the  words  stopped  midway  on  my 
tongue.  I  began  to  tremble  instead — tremble  till 
my  hands  could  hardly  hold  to  my  chair,  till  I 
couldn't  keep  my  mouth  from  dribbling. 

"It's  a  debt  of  honor,"  he  went  on.  "You  can  re 
pudiate  it  if  you  want  to,  and  snap  your  fingers  in 
my  face,  but  I  trusted  you,  I  got  you  out  of  your 
mess,  and  now  I  ask  you  for  my  money." 

I  couldn't  answer  anything,  but  looked  at  him 
speechless  while  he  goes  to  the  door,  peeks  outside 
of  it  very  careful  lest  any  one  might  be  listening, 
and  then  comes  tiptoeing  back.  It  was  so  plain 
what  he  meant  to  tell  me  that  I  managed  to  cry  out, 
"No,  no,"  and  shook  worse  nor  ever. 

"You're  a  straight  man,  Ben,"  he  says.  "What 
you  owe,  you  pay.  I  wouldn't  have  risked  it  if  I 
had  had  any  doubt  about  that." 

I  stumbled  to  the  sideboard,  poured  myself  out  a 
big  drink,  never  minding  what  I  spilled,  and  then 
went  up  to  the  attic  where  the  bag  of  money  was 
still  lying  under  the  old  mattress.  I  brought  it  down 
and  give  it  to  him,  only  asking  him  not  to  count  it 
as  that  was  more  than  I  could  bear. 

He  made  a  grab  for  it,  never  saying  a  word,  and 
as  he  went  out  of  the  doorway  that  was  the  last  I 
ever  saw  of  him. 

Was  I  a  fool  to  have  paid  him?  Was  it  all  a 
bluff,  and  just  his  hellish  ingeniousness  for  turning 

359 


WILD  JUSTICE 


everything  to  account?  Funk  never  questioned  she 
had  died  a  natural  death.  Yet  true  or  untrue,  paying 
Doc  that  two  thousand  dollars  made  me  a  murderer. 
In  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  believe  he  did  it,  and 
there  are  nights  when  I  wake  up  in  a  sweat  of 
horror.  But  wouldn't  it  have  been  a  dirty  act  to 
bilk  him  of  his  money,  all  the  more  as  it  would 
have  been  so  easy?  To  this  day  I  don't  know 
whether  I  ought  to  have  paid  or  not,  though  if  I 
hadn't  it  would  have  lightened  my  conscience  of  a 
frightful  load.  But  when  I  think  that  I  always  see 
him  closing  the  door  and  tiptoeing  back,  ready  to 
whisper  the  truth. 

If  it  was  the  truth. 

Well,  what  would  you  have  done  ? 


(2) 


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